A Knut to Start the Revolution
by Hahukum Konn
Summary: Sixth year AU fic. Harry Potter decides to even some old scores, and along the way, deal with that idiot Fudge. In doing so, he discovers how to be a politician and a warrior.
1. In the Beginning

**A Knut to Start the Revolution**  
Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to J. K. Rowling.

* * *

Harry Potter lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, meditating on the sheer absurdity – no, the _futile_ absurdity of having the entire British wizarding world fawning all over him once again, now that his godfather had paid the price for getting proof of Voldemort's return.

Harry missed Sirius. It _hurt_ so much when he'd unconsciously ask Hedwig if she was bringing a letter from him, only to realise he wasn't sending anything, not even a breath of air or a prophetic dream. And yet, he'd had to go back to the Dursleys because of those blasted blood-based protections.

The protections, he reflected, which might well be a bit less useful than Dumbledore would assume, if Voldemort's blood fooled them.

And because Harry missed Sirius, and had been wronged by so many people from the Ministry, that one night in late June would eventually set Harry on a path that would change the wizarding world.

/\/\/\

The next morning, Harry woke up, went downstairs, and desultorily fixed himself up some breakfast. As he munched on his fried eggs and bacon, washing them down with orange juice, he happened to notice a slightly clumsy brown-haired woman walking along Privet Drive.

_Ah, Tonks, you can't fool me_, Harry thought as he smirked to himself.

Unfortunately, Aunt Petunia's rude voice broke in on his reverie.

"Where's breakfast?"

"Get it yourself, Aunt. Or shall I write my _letter_?"

That shut her up, and gave Harry's Inner Slytherin an idea or three, although in his current state he wasn't really in the mood to pay attention.

For lack of anything better to do, Harry trudged up the stairs to his bedroom, and closed the door. He wondered what Remus was doing, and if the man would mind just talking about Sirius for a while. On impulse, Harry grabbed some paper and a pen, and scribbled out a letter.

_Professor Lupin,_

_I was wondering if it would be all right if I could talk to you a bit about Sirius. I really would like to talk to you, when you can get out here, please._

_Harry._

Harry threw the letter on his desk, and lay back on his bed, and thought about his summer after he'd left the train station. Luckily, old Mad-Eye and company had cowed the Dursleys enough that all Harry had to do was mention The Letter, and even Uncle Vernon would shut up and turn an impressive shade of puce.

Unbidden, unwanted, thoughts of Harry's wasted Occlumency lessons came to the fore, and along with them, Snape and all his snarky, foul, unwanted comments. "Fame isn't everything" being just the opening salvo in five long years of a man, normally so intelligent he fooled Voldemort in the 1970s and 1990s, deluding himself by giving in to his hatred for James Potter as though he were in a perpetual time warp, to the point where he ascribed qualities to Harry that didn't even exist.

By now, Harry's Inner Slytherin was banging away, making a terrible racket, and Harry finally gave up and let those thoughts arise to the surface.

_If Snape thinks you're such an attention-grabbing brat who'll take any steps necessary to cash in on his fame, why not prove him right? The entire wizarding world would give you whatever you wanted on a silver platter, and if Dumbledore let you get away with murder before, now that he feels bad over the way he screwed up royally, he'd give you the moon if you asked._

And that gave Harry his first brainstorm. Abruptly, he stood up, then sat at his desk. Quill met parchment, and the well-crafted result was:

_Dear Madam Bones,_

_As you know, I am the foremost target of Voldemort's wrath, and after the disgraceful attempt last year to use my imminent need for self-defence against me, I want to ensure that it never happens again._

_I would like an emergency dispensation to use any and all magic as necessary to further my ability to protect myself from Voldemort and his minions without having to look over my shoulder, metaphorically speaking, at a Ministry whose current leader has, regrettably, been less than adequately concerned with my protection._

_Yours respectfully,_

_Harry Potter_

With a smile, Harry sent Hedwig off to deliver Remus's letter, then go to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ministry of Magic, and sat back to ponder what to do next. After a few moments, he realised what he needed to do, and picked up the telephone, calling for Directory Enquiries.

After some false starts with wrong telephone numbers, Harry was on the telephone with one Hermione Granger.

* * *

Author Notes:

I got a plot bunny from **Misato ** on Fictionalley about Harry Potter starting a revolution to oust Minister Fudge. :) This is the new version.

Also, thanks go to **Maddevillechilde** for the beta work on the original version of this. :)

A word on the HBP and DH canon - unlike in "Vengeance" which is a post-HBP AU, I will use the 'orthodox' locations of the Horcruxes as outlined by JKR in DH and Harry _will_ be an accidental Horcrux; however I have an alternative in mind for how to end the battle between Voldemort and Harry.


	2. Discussing the Boy Who Lived

**A Knut to Start the Revolution**  
Chapter 2

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to J. K. Rowling.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sat before Amelia Bones, who seemed extraordinarily pleased about something. Deciding that Bones would get to the point in her own way, Albus said, "Are the privacy wards on the office sufficient?"

The witch guardedly checked some orbs on her desk and muttered an incantation.

"We are currently behind an Imperturbable on the door, and several wards are active which will prevent anyone from trying to eavesdrop or overhear," she informed him. "Animagi, if they are here and unauthorised, will be immediately transported to the Auror Office.

"So what is it, Albus?"

"I would like to tackle the issue of the Order first."

"I take it you want to invite me into your Order of the Phoenix?"

The elderly wizard nodded gravely, and Bones replied, "Done. There has to be better liaison between the Ministry and your intelligence-gathering group. Now that Cornelius is somewhat neutralised I can act a bit more freely. If that Lucius Malfoy –" the way she bit off the name made it sound like it had four letters.

Dumbledore responded smoothly, "As it is, we are fortunate that some of Cornelius's financial backers can no longer delude him. There are no rituals required as far as Order membership goes aside from a vote on membership at the next meeting. In your case, it would be largely _pro forma_. But I wish to take up the issue of Harry Potter, as you indicated in your owl that you wanted to have a discussion with me regarding him."

Her monocled face broke into a rare smile as she leaned back in her chair.

"I'll say I do! The boy has taken quite the initiative already! That DA of his – a capital idea! Capital! Susan regaled me with several stories about it, and in light of the events at this Ministry recently, it strikes me that all the students who had been here, save Ginevra Weasley and Luna Lovegood, have tentatively been scored at least an E on their Defence OWLs. I have been privately told by the examiners that Mr Potter easily stood head and shoulders above the rest of the students who wrote the theoretical and took the practical.

"Anyway, Albus, I asked you here because the boy has written to me, asking for a waiver of the restriction on his use of magic during the summers away from Hogwarts. I will be granting it, no questions asked."

Dumbledore was quite surprised and he showed it by saying, "I was not expecting the young man to take the initiative to this extent. That having been said, he should have gotten such a waiver at the end of his fourth year when it was clear that Voldemort had returned."

Bones eyed him sharply, saying, "You sound as though you're not all that pleased that he asked on his own. Albus, the boy has his own mind and should be able to keep his own counsel if need be."

"I am not arguing that, Amelia," the old Headmaster interjected. "I am simply expressing my surprise that he seems to have rebounded from events at the Ministry. As you may or may not be aware, Sirius Black was his godfather, and is known to be innocent of any crimes he is supposed to have committed. The man died at the Department of Mysteries, and the boy took his death rather hard."

"Hmpf."

"Unfortunately, I had to send him back to his relatives for the summer. I have never told him why, before that night, he is so crucially important to the upcoming war effort. He did not take my revelations well, either. Madam Bones, I urge you to be as forthcoming with the boy as you can. He does not appreciate it when information is concealed from him, allegedly for his own good."

The Ministry witch appeared quite eerily like McGonagall as she pursed her lips and answered, "Indeed. And I'd like to ask you just what the hell you were and are doing, putting him with those idiot relatives of his who treat him abominably? Minerva McGonagall has told me a few details, and I know Arthur Weasley has mentioned one or two things. Even Auror Tonks has made comments."

The venerable Headmaster closed his eyes, sighed, and then spoke slowly. "One thing I know I will have to do is eventually account for myself to Molly Weasley, and I am not looking forward to that. You have to remember that in 1981, the defeat of Voldemort did not suddenly spring on us a brand-new world writ fresh. I feared that there might even be a civil war among the surviving wizarding elements once it was clear that Harry's mother's miraculous act turned the tide of a war that had been going badly.

"So I did what I thought was the logically smart thing to do, and used a form of blood magic based on the fact that Lily's sister was still alive and would likely take him in. If so, then it would be activated and anchor a series of powerful wards that keep out Death Eaters and other unsavoury elements.

"This protection for Harry came at the cost of his happiness, and… well, I failed Harry rather spectacularly this year, and his dislike of his situation is partly catalysed by having to remain at his relatives' for at least a month out of the year to renew the protections the wards have on him."

Bones's lips thinned quite noticeably as she said, "Albus, there are many in the world that respect and love you, but if the true story about Harry's home life ever becomes known there are a lot of people who would love to kiss your arse goodbye. I cannot deny, as a former Auror, the _logic_ of your choice, but I sure as Hell question its _wisdom_! Did you never think of distance-based blood wards? You could have let old Figg adopt him, for Merlin's sake! You set her up there to do some sort of a job monitoring Mr Potter, although from the sounds of it you let her get away with a _hell_ of a lot of goldbricking. Anyway, it is over and done with, but you made a certain set of decisions which, in retrospect, turn out to have been stunningly short-sighted."

Dumbledore said ruefully, "Madam Bones, I will be getting a lot of that, will I not?"

She smirked and said, "Yes, so I urge you to get it over with. Call an Order meeting, vote me in, and let them rake you over the coals once and get it done. Oh, and as far as the Order goes, you can expect my full assistance and cooperation in making sure the Department of Magical Law Enforcement coordinates actions and intelligence with you. It's well past time Cornelius stopped getting in the way."

* * *

Author Notes:

Thanks go to **Maddevillechilde** for the beta work on the original version. :)


	3. Making Plans, Preparing for Action

**A Knut to Start the Revolution**  
Chapter 3

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to J. K. Rowling.

* * *

The voice on the other end of the phone conversation sounded a bit tinny in Harry's ear but it was recognisably Hermione's.

He said, "Hello, Hermione, it's me—"

Hermione replied excitedly, "_Harry!_ It's so good to hear from you! How are you? Are your relatives treating you all right? Oh—I'm running off at the mouth again, aren't I?"

Harry grinned. Hermione of the Thousand Questions, she was.

"First, I'm fine. Second, yes, thanks in part to the real Mad-Eye Moody. Third, yes, you are running off a bit, but that's you, Hermione. Don't change on my account."

He heard a chuckle in his ear, as the witch tried not to laugh.

"You know," she said, "it feels strange to have no summer assignments, but I guess we can't until we get our OWL results. But why did you call me?"

"I was thinking about restarting the DA, but with additional work for the six of us who went to the Ministry. I've got an idea for creating a kind of elte attack squad; I want the six of us to be able to take down six Death Eaters in a fight. What do you think?"

"Well, I think that would actually be a very good idea. That spell Dolohov got off at me could have been a really nasty one if it had been any stronger. I should have realised people can cast spells non-verbally; I just never thought of it!" Hermione's frustration with herself was evident, given that she prided herself on her intelligence and swift thinking.

Reassuringly, Harry said, "Look, Hermione, the important thing about all this is we got out alive. And as for mistakes, they're meant to be learned from so we don't make them again. So from now on, we'll cover nonverbal casting as well as verbal.

"Anyway, I've written the Ministry to ask for an exemption from the underage magic restrictions. I wrote to Madam Bones, as I don't trust that idiot Fudge. Second, I need your help. The way I was treated last year by the Ministry and the Prophet was utterly abominable, and I intend to settle accounts!"

Hermione, apparently surprised, actually waited several seconds before she replied, "Harry, surely what has already happened has redressed that, hasn't it? After all the Ministry have admitted they were wrong, and Dumbledore is back on the Wizengamot and so on. As for 'settling accounts', don't you think that sounds a bit selfish?"

"No, I have _not_ been redressed sufficiently. Where is the apology from that brass knockers for brains Fudge for trying to railroad me out of Hogwarts because he wanted to pursue his own agenda?

"And as for being selfish—" Harry let that dangle for a few seconds, and then called up his unerringly harsh tongue from the last summer, and spoke with all his sadness, anguish and despair. "How much more do I have to give to everybody else? How many more times do I have to rush off and save the entire bloody world from itself so all the self-important little shites like Fudge and Malfoy can go back to bribery, corruption and blatant manipulation of the Wizengamot and our government to screw everything up for the rest of us? I am _sick_ and _tired_ of everybody in wizarding Britain thinking that I can either be their poster boy or their punching bag at their whim! If there is to be any victory against Voldemort, it has to start with the world understanding that Harry Potter works for himself, and not for Dumbledore, and not for that idiot Fudge!"

He broke off, willing himself not to cry as he thought of Sirius and how so many people cocked that night up. Snape, Dumbledore, Umbridge, Fudge, Voldemort, and last but not least, himself.

In a small voice, Hermione said, "I'm sorry, Harry. I wish I could help."

Firmly, he replied said, "But you can, Hermione, you can. Just help me. Harry Potter wants justice. Every injustice wrought against me _will be overturned_. Mark my words."

"Harry…"

"Don't 'Harry' me, Hermione. Either help me, or get out of my way. I am sick and tired of being the plush play-toy of the day for some arse at the Ministry, or when Dumbledore thinks of another way to screw my life up with a brilliant idea like leaving me with the Dursleys who shoved me in a cupboard under the stairs. The first thing I need from you is anything you've got on Occlumency. That git Snape will no doubt preen and parade and do his little Legilimens thing on me to try and prove I'm a lack-witted idiot, and I want to show him up."

Hermione's resolve stiffened as she heard the undercurrent of pain and anger in Harry's words, and she said only one word. "Yes."

The next day, Hermione Granger wrote Professor McGonagall, asking for permission to visit the Hogwarts library. Since her reputation for studiousness was unmatched except among some of the more fanatical Ravenclaws, Madam Pince, feeling a kindred spirit in the respect Hermione had for books, overlooked the fact that that her reading material was on the mental arts and Defence against the Dark Arts rather than Herbology or Potions. On her return trip, she harried the poor clerk at Flourish and Blotts in ruthlessly examining every book for possible applicability to Harry's situation.

A few days later, Hedwig and an unfamiliar owl landed on Harry's bed, bearing books and a note from Flourish and Blotts, which indicated that Hermione hadn't had the money to cover all the books, but since they were being delivered to Harry Potter, would he kindly make up the balance at his convenience? Her note, sent in a separate envelope with the library books, indicated some of the books were from the Hogwarts library, and others were owl ordered from the Diagon Alley bookstore. She'd paid for as much as she could, and politely asked for reimbursement.

Harry suspected that there had been some fiddling with the prices on the books, as a book he would have sworn cost seventeen Galleons was marked on the bill for twelve. Others were like this. He didn't begrudge spending the money, and would have, if he'd remembered, told Hermione to just charge the lot to his Gringotts vault. As it was, he would reimburse her, and find a very nice present for Hermione for Christmas or her birthday.

Settling in, Harry picked up one of the slimmer volumes and began reading The Mental Arts: What is Occlumency?

A few hours later, Harry Potter was seeing red, livid at Severus Snape. The arsehole had neglected to cover even the basics of how to clear one's mind, not to mention that a great deal of mental preparation went into getting comfortable with mental defences. Stupid git had just chucked him in the deep end and expected him to sink or swim.

Harry tried to stop fuming, and began doing some of the calming mental exercises he'd read about. They seemed to work after a bit, and Harry began slowly, but surely, applying the rest of the preliminaries to _proper_ Occlumency. He realised he hadn't told Hermione all his plans yet, but he'd gotten too worked up to think straight and he needed to focus on defending his mind.

He could always call her again the next day, anyway. Plus, he had to write to his friends.

/\/\/\

Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Luna all got letters from Harry Potter that read, essentially, thus:

_I hope you're all okay and that you're not in trouble or anything from that time in the Department of Mysteries. If I hadn't been so dead set on rushing off like that we could have avoided the whole thing. It's my fault and I'm sorry I got you all into a dangerous situation._

_I'm also writing because I'd like to sort of make things up to you guys by restarting the DA next year. Ideally, at least the six of us should be like an elite attack squad, capable of taking down six Death Eaters, even if the other students never get that far. Are you with me on this? If not, I won't blame you, but I for one plan to train long and hard so I'm never that outmatched again._

_Your friend (I hope),_

_Harry Potter._

Their replies were varied, but all assured Harry that they did not resent him for their choice to accompany him to the Department of Mysteries. Additionally, they enthusiastically supported his re-initiation of the DA along with the extra self-training Harry mentioned. Ron joked that he hadn't spent his fake Galleon yet, luckily.

/\/\/\

The day after Harry finished his book on Occlumency, he called Hermione again.

This time, a man's voice answered, and Harry said, hesitantly, "Um, hi. Is Hermione there?"

"Yes, she is. Who is this calling?"

"It's Harry Potter, sir. A friend from school."

Realisation seemed to dawn as the man's voice became friendlier. "Ah, _that_ school! All right, one moment."

A short while later, Hermione was on the phone, and she said, "Harry! I haven't heard from you in a couple of days. Did you get all the books?"

Smiling, Harry said, "Yes, I did. Thanks a lot, and I'll gladly give you the money when we meet in Diagon Alley. I should have just told you to have Flourish and Blotts charge the books to my Gringotts account. Anyway, I didn't get to tell you what my long-range plans are."

Hermione's voice was guarded as she said, "And just _what_ do you have planned?"

"Well, you know I want to restart the DA at school and such, but additionally... well, I'm going to run for Minister for Magic."

There was dead silence on the phone connection for the next thirty seconds, then all hell broke loose.

* * *

Author Notes:

Not all is as it seems when an underage wizard decides to try and bend a few rules to get on the Wizengamot ballot for the next election. :) And please note that I am making more than minor technical revisions to these chapters in some cases, so please re-read with a close eye. :)

Thanks go to **Maddevillechilde** for the beta work on the original version.


	4. The Waiver Arrives

**A Knut to Start the Revolution**  
Chapter 4

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to J. K. Rowling.

* * *

Hermione spluttered loudly, "_Minister for Magic?_ Have you gone barmy? You're not even seventeen for Heaven's sake!"

She breathed deeply and then, after a few moments, let out a hollow chuckle.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but if _I_ think it's more funny than serious, think of how the rest of the Wizarding World is going to view you. Please, let's think of some other way to handle this… justice-seeking thing you have."

Harry was implacable as he said, "No, Hermione. I'm going to run for Minister for Magic and that's that. I don't care what I have to do to get recognised in order to stand for election. By rights I'm more an adult than some of those idiots on the Wizengamot, considering what I've been through. You should know, you've been right there with me along with Ron. _Please_, Hermione. You've always liked tilting at windmills, haven't you? Remember SPEW?"

He almost chuckled as Hermione's automatic, "That's S.P.E.W., Harry, not SPEW. Honestly!"

She went on to say, "It's true that I want to combat injustice, but this… this _idea_ of yours is utterly impractical! Honestly, a sixteen-year-old Minister for Magic! Well, you could do a sight better than Fudge, I must say."

_Good, she's coming around_, thought Harry. She also didn't realise it but she'd left herself open for the hook-line-and-sinker statement.

The raven-haired wizard zeroed in as he said, "Do you remember how almost none of the house-elves at Hogwarts believe in what you have to say about house-elf freedom, even after about a year and a half? Dobby's the exception, not the rule. And honestly – have any of the other students besides me and Ron bought your S.P.E.W. badges, or even _asked _about it? This _idea_ of mine is no less audacious, and I say the odds of success are a fair bit higher!"

Hermione was stuck, and she knew it, because she said, "I—Argh! I was all ready for a comeback, and then I realised… blast it, you're right. For once, you're right. Fine, I'll sign on, albeit under protest, Harry!"

He grinned and said, "Glad to have you on board, Hermione. You're my campaign manager and official researcher. I need to know everything about how one gets rid of the incumbent Minister and then stands for election."

"Well, I think the Minister is chosen by the Wizengamot. Strange, I know, but there it is. I'll get back to you about the entire process later. As much as I hate to say it, you should get hold of Fred and George Weasley. They're immensely popular with a lot of people, and getting them to spread the word would be some of the best publicity."

Harry had been obliquely considering it, but her statement still came out of the blue, zinging him as he realised Hermione had a very good point.

"Great idea, Hermione! I'd better ring off now; I want to start working on my public speeches and things like that."

Laughing, Hermione said, "When you go shopping for your fancy new dress robes, bring me along, would you? If you had your way you'd probably buy everything in black, and you're not going to a funeral, for God's sake. Eugh!"

_Oh, God. Dress robes. Public speaking._ Harry started feeling butterflies in his stomach.

Nervously, Harry said, "Er… can I back out now?"

Her reply was firm. "Not a chance, Harry. You've convinced me, more or less, and if you can convince me you can convince a lot of other people."

Not that he'd tried _that_ hard to back out. He said, "Okay, I'll call you back in a day or so."

"Goodbye, Harry!"

"Likewise."

He placed the telephone receiver back on the hook and said to himself, "Merlin on a crutch, what have I _done_?"

His hands sweated as he imagined himself in Diagon Alley, making speeches, or having to shake hands with random strangers. He wondered how he would react to the inevitable detractor who might likely attack him physically. And beyond all that, what would Voldemort do? Even if Harry had very good Occlumency shields, there was still the chance that Voldemort could attempt a possession of Harry in public, doing him irreparable damage in terms of credibility.

_Fuck. I'm just going to forget about all this for now. I can handle wand work and Defence a lot better than politics, _mused Harry as he flopped on his bed, having desultorily grabbed Fighting Fire with Fire: How to Remain Legal and Best Your Enemies, by Alastor Moody.

Mad-Eye may have believed in bringing in Death Eaters alive, but that clearly did not mean he had to be _nice_ in doing so, and the limited-printing book, meant for Aurors only (with special dispensation to Hogwarts' library to keep a copy) was chock-full of handy spells and tips. Harry had already read of creative tactics such as the use of the Summoning Charm or Banishment Charm to distract and confuse enemies. He remembered the epic battle between Voldemort and Dumbledore at the Ministry, where the aged Headmaster had used animation, transfiguration and summoning spells with effortless ease to defend against Voldemort's attacks and even launch some of his own.

Frankly, _any_ spell was dangerous if applied with the desire to kill or maim. In that respect it was not so different from the use of a knife. The analogy that came to his mind was the difference between a knife and a grenade. A knife had uses other than harm and death. One could chop an apple, or slice someone's throat.

But a grenade had only one purpose – to harm another person or group of people. In that respect, by analogy, the three Unforgivables clearly had no redeeming use whatsoever. It had been argued in Defensive Magic, Light and Dark, by Robin Banks, that the Imperius Curse could have had valid uses in psychiatry, but Harry thought the man rather missed the point. He had a feeling – nothing more, but a fairly strong one – that the use of an Unforgivable affected the user, somehow.

Guiltily, he thought of his own attempted use of the Cruciatus on Bellatrix Lestrange. If he took her words at face value (which he was reluctant to do; she was clearly a bit batty), then to actually _use_ that curse, you had to be able to summon up feelings of hate and anger at a moment's notice.

_What does that do to a person, that capability?_

Harry pondered on this; he was not enthusiastic about the implications. Severus Snape was a former Death Eater, and certainly nobody was running around nominating _him_ for "best friend of old ladies and little dogs" awards – and this was a man who had tried for some kind of redemption by spying for Dumbledore. He could only imagine how much more spiteful and mean Snape would be if he were a full-time, true Death Eater.

At that point, his closed his eyes and thanked whatever Deities might remotely exist in some vaguely possible manner that he couldn't cast the Unforgivable curses. If he'd used the Cruciatus once, and found he enjoyed causing pain, how much longer before he would desire to use it again–and again–and again–until he was insane like Lestrange?

Even those who argued the use of the Killing Curse as a form of euthanasia were reaching a bit, Harry felt. There were any number of potions which would do the job just as effectively, and heaven only knew how many Muggle drugs could accomplish it, too. Morphine overdose, he vaguely remembered from some show on the telly Dudley had been forced to watch for a school project (Harry thought it had been the only time Dudley had ever put on the BBC), was reported to be one of the pleasanter methods.

No, the true danger of the Unforgivables wasn't in their effects; it was the fact that they epitomised the ultimate danger of Dark Arts – the temptation and seduction to control and manipulate other human beings with no concern for their thoughts or feelings. And in that respect they were very much like the hand grenade.

To that end, Harry realised, Mad-Eye Moody's book was proof that to do what was necessary (be prepared to defeat Death Eaters), one did not necessarily have to stoop to their level, but one _did_ have to be prepared to be swift of foot and movement, have good situational awareness, and remember that Death Eaters aren't impressed by mastery of the Levitation Charm.

Harry made a note to see about a physical fitness regime. It would do no good to be less agile than the opposing Death Eater, especially not if he wanted to form that elite squad he had his notions about.

/\/\/\

Some time later, an unfamiliar owl pecked at the window, and Harry, wand out and ready just in case, although he was not allowed to use it, walked over and let the owl in. It unceremoniously dropped its envelope on Harry's bed, and swooped back out the window. He noticed it had a Magical Law Enforcement seal on it, and the envelope was addressed with the usual "Harry Potter, 4 Privet Drive, et cetera".

His heart leapt as he realised it might be from Madam Bones, and his hands shook as he opened the envelope.

The letter read:

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_I have taken the liberty of speaking with Albus Dumbledore regarding this letter you wrote to me, and he was somewhat taken aback by the fact that you have taken matters into your own hands regarding the use of magic._

_However, he agrees with me that you should have been granted such a waiver the moment You-Know-Who returned, and I hereby include such a waiver._

_There are one or two matters I will have to take up in person. Expect me at your door in approximately one hour from receipt of this owl._

_With cordial regards,_

_Madam Amelia Bones  
Head, Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

The waiver included with the envelope read thus:

_Harry James Potter_

_Of_

_Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, United Kingdom_

_on this date of 2 July 1996 _

_Is hereby granted an unconditional waiver of the normal restrictions as enumerated by the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. Furthermore, Harry James Potter is permitted to the fullest degree possible under the International Statute of Secrecy, subject only to the legal requirements to which adult wizards and witches must adhere, to defend himself by any means necessary against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and his supporters._

_This waiver shall expire in the event of use of Unforgivable Curses or any other violation of wizarding law as it applies to adult wizards. It shall also expire upon the event of Harry James Potter's seventeenth birthday._

_(signed) Amelia Bones  
Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

_(signed) Rufus Scrimgeour  
Head Auror, Magical Law Enforcement_

Since all he knew of adult wizarding law was that one was disallowed to do magic in front of muggles except in self-defence, and that one was banned from using magic on a Muggle or their artefacts, unless you kept the artefact or artefacts for yourself, he didn't see that the lines about the "adult wizarding law" had much applicability, and he'd already gotten done promising himself he would never, ever use an Unforgivable Curse again.

But… _yes!_ Finally he could use magic! Harry promptly dug out his Transfiguration text, and looked up household furniture transfigurations.

Within a few moments, his bed changed from a rickety hand-me-down from when Dudley broke all the springs doing belly flops (upon which Aunt Petunia said, "Oh, my Dudders is growing up to be such a man! He just needs a bigger bed, is all!" – Harry had had to bite down on his cheek to keep from laughing at the time) into a fine, sturdy bed much like the one he had in Gryffindor Tower at Hogwarts.

The warped chair in his room that had always tilted and could never be set right unless he shoved a book under the leg that was too short (this time, it wasn't Dudley's weight that was the issue. Dudley had been bored and taken the chair out to the back lawn and promptly soaked it in water from the hosepipe. Problem was, the chair was made out of wood, and it warped in the summer sun as it dried. Aunt Petunia got her Duddy Dinkydums a padded leather executive chair as a replacement and had barely acknowledged Harry when he asked for the warped chair to replace the cheap plastic one that was in danger of falling apart because the screws were stripped) had been transformed into a quite sturdy, if plain, cushioned chair much like the secretary at the optician's office had used the only time Petunia had ever deigned to get him glasses.

A few expansion charms on the room doubled its size, and Harry made a note to research more advanced protections, which some people liked to call "wards", but were basically protective enchantments one could place on objects or over a defined area. He wanted to add such a one to his room so he could force his relatives to actually ask permission for him to open the door. As it was, he settled for a mild Muggle-repelling Charm, but knew that wasn't really fair and resolved to fix that as soon as possible. Ideally, the ward would be like a selective Locking Charm. If you weren't given permission to open the door, then if you tried opening it, it would stay locked.

The final touch was when he looked at his clothes distastefully, and transfigured them into something far better-fitting. The tatty, faded old blue jeans which were several sizes too big became snug, proper-fitting jeans with no holes at the knees, and could have been mistaken for freshly-purchased ones. His shirt, which never fit properly, became a plain white T-shirt which, for once, did not feel like he was wearing a giant toga.

Harry had been so occupied with gleeful use of magic for his own benefit that he was quite startled when the doorbell rang. Too late, he remembered Madam Bones's letter, and realised with a sinking feeling that Uncle Vernon was going to demonstrate the full spectrum of multifarious shades of red that his face could take on.

Sure enough, as he descended the stairs, Uncle Vernon was currently sporting a wonderful brick-red colour, as he stood by the door, straining politely to say, "Boy, you've got a… _guest_ here to see you."

Madam Bones, stern-faced and wearing a monocle, eyeballed Uncle Vernon as she said, "Thank you for that… _cordial_… welcome. Mr Potter, I believe we have business to discuss?"

Harry, not really understanding, said, "Uh, yeah. Um…Uncle Vernon, this is Amelia Bones. She's… well, I guess she'd be like the head of the Assizes or Crown Court as well as Chief Inspector at Scotland Yard."

Uncle Vernon didn't waste any time proving he could outdo an eggplant for the impressive shade of purple his face took on, and he said, "Be too much to hope you got into legal trouble again. Just get finished with whatever you need to do already!" He then turned abruptly and stomped into the kitchen.

Harry stiffly nodded, closed the front door, and said, "Madam Bones, please come upstairs. You'll find my bedroom to be fairly comfortable. Thanks for the waiver. I can use _magic_ now!"

The crash in the kitchen was music to Harry's ears as he ushered the stern looking witch up the stairs and into his bedroom. He pictured a comfortable chair, not too fancy, and conjured it up. She lifted her eyebrow at the show of conjuration but then sat down.

Harry closed the door, then pointed his wand at it and said, "_Colloportus_."

At her searching look, he smirked, sat in his transfigured chair, and said, "My Muggle guardians have never liked the fact that I'm a wizard, or that Dumbledore just left me on their doorstep without so much as a by-your-leave. Ever since they found out I'm not allowed to do magic outside of school they've been insufferable. It's been a bit better this year now that Mad-Eye Moody and Arthur Weasley threatened unspecified penalties if they mistreat me. That crash in the kitchen was probably Uncle Vernon dropping his coffee. Not that I particularly care overmuch. I've just made sure they won't try to come in."

Bones pursed her lips. "I had heard the stories about your guardians," she said. "It is difficult not to when rumours circulate around Hogwarts and you have a niece that attends. Arthur Weasley has also spoken to me once or twice on the subject. Minerva McGonagall also once said she attempted to dissuade Albus from placing you here, but he overrode her at the time. She was not impressed by your relatives at the time, I assure you.

"I still find it hard to believe that you, the Boy-Who-Lived, are living in this relatively tiny room. Yes, I can see where it has been magically expanded, and can deduce the true size. In addition your bed clearly is transfigured, as it is quite a good replica of a Hogwarts bunk, and judging from your relatives' antipathy to you, I doubt they would have provided you with such a thoughtful reminder of school."

Harry snickered. "Right in one, Madam Bones. And by the way, I remember your niece, Susan. We were in the DA together."

Her olive face broke into a smile.

"Yes, the DA… Defence Association, or, more amusingly, Dumbledore's Army. Susan had nothing but good things to say about it, and I dare say her confidence about her OWL in Defence is mostly your work. I had a look at what that Umbridge woman was claiming she was teaching you, and it is clear that even absent all the turmoil at Hogwarts owing to her presence, she would have left you woefully unprepared for that exam. As it is I am impressed any teaching got done at all that year."

She continued briskly. "Mr Potter, I am here for two – or perhaps three – distinct reasons. The first I have already covered; I wanted to congratulate you on an excellent piece of work with the DA, and considering you want to be an Auror, you show a good aptitude for that line of work.

"The second is that I, personally, find it disgraceful that Albus Dumbledore left you here with clearly unsympathetic guardians and a Squib that seems to have done nothing but goldbricking for heaven knows how long. If you hadn't been attacked by Dementors, I daresay you'd still think she was just a batty old woman. She had any number of chances to investigate and report that you were being unfairly treated. I wonder how much he pays her to waste her time with those cats. Anyway, he has encouraged me to be as truthful and forthcoming with you as I possibly can, although to what end I don't fully understand."

Harry hurriedly replied, "We had a… well, an argument after that night at the Department of Mysteries, about some things he'd been keeping from me."

Bones nodded and said, "Hm. I see. Third – I must put up a silencing charm first—"

She waved her wand, muttering an incantation.

"Good. We cannot now be overheard. Mr Potter, Kingsley Shacklebolt came to see me after the Department of Mysteries battle wherein you and five other students managed to destroy half the place while, thankfully, assisting in the capture of several Death Eaters. He spoke to me in extreme confidence regarding some spells that were cast."

Harry's heart dropped into his stomach as his breath hitched.

"Mr Potter, a Cruciatus Curse was cast that was attributable to your magical signature, and was detected as such by a spell sensor network that is active throughout the Department of Mysteries. It was the weakest of all Cruciatus curses so cast, incidentally, bordering on unsuccessful use. Auror Shacklebolt has told me, quite unofficially, that he wiped it from the records that night. I am here to inquire as to the exact circumstances surrounding your use of that curse."

Harry looked at the floor, and mumbled, "I couldn't even do it, not even when I was so mad at her…"

"Speak up, Mr Potter."

Shakily, he took a breath and said steadily, "It was after Bellatrix Lestrange cast a spell that sent Sirius Black through the veil in that chamber – he's my godfather, see, and he was innocent of that crime; Peter Pettigrew faked his own death – and I was so distraught and angry I remember chasing after her, and… well, I cast the curse at her. It didn't even really work."

He took another breath, and fearfully looked Bones in the eye. "Are – are you going to send me to Azkaban?"

Bones huffed a sigh. "I think not. First, the law is clear. The curse must be _successful_ to be a chargeable offence punishable by the lifetime sentence in Azkaban. You _attempted_ the curse; that is not the same thing. Second, in a time of war – and we are in one – there are very few rules. The enemy is out to get you, and vice versa.

"My decision is to not charge you with the offence, and indeed to order you to forget that you have had this discussion with me. It would be a very unpopular move to charge you with use of the curse considering who it was cast against – or attempted on, I should say. Additionally, on practical grounds, it would be quite wrong to subject an underage wizard to such a life-altering punishment particularly when you show little sign of desiring to practice Dark Arts."

Harry heaved a shaky sigh of relief and said, "Thank you, Madam Bones. I admit this was weighing on my head a bit earlier today. I've been reading about the dangers of Dark Arts and I was thinking how it would be too easy to _want _to use the curse and end up being as barmy as Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Well, Mr Potter, you can be considered fortunate that Auror Shacklebolt was on the scene. He has told me that he has not even reported this matter to Headmaster Dumbledore, as he suspects that if Severus Snape was to somehow find out about this – and I don't fully trust Albus with respect to Severus – he could use that information against you in some way."

Harry spoke up with sudden bitterness. "Oh. Snape. That's a laugh. I bet he'd say, 'Headmaster, you are clearly delusional. The Golden Boy wouldn't be able to cast a Cruciatus even if he had an instruction manual with pictures!'"

His imitation of Snape's sneer and condescending tone forced a laugh out of Bones, and she marvelled that such a young man was possessed of wit, politeness and intelligence. He was clearly aware of what he needed to do in order to make himself ready to take up the mantle of "The Chosen One" (as the Daily Prophet had started calling him) and he was cognisant of the danger of going Dark.

"Well, Mr Potter, I think I have taken up enough of your time today. Incidentally, now that you can do magic I would suggest you practice your Transfiguration. You seem to have a bit of an aptitude for that."

Harry smiled and said, "Thanks. This stuff has to last me for the whole summer, and I'd rather not re-transfigure it if I don't have to. I promise I won't abuse the waiver with regard to my Muggle guardians. They've been served notice that I can defend myself, and that should be enough."

"If you should have any trouble with them in the future, I say the hell with Albus. You send me an owl straightaway. Aurors have a number of safe houses scattered throughout Great Britain, and I know of at least one that has a _Fidelius_ on it. I am the Secret Keeper."

Harry mulled that over as he said, "Thanks again. I appreciate what you've done for me as well as your compliments. But really, everybody in the DA did a pretty good job; they all wanted to learn _real_ Defence, just like I did."

The witch cancelled the silencing charm as she said, "Well, Mr Potter, I shall take my leave of you now. Would you kindly escort me to the door?"

His smile was one that would break hearts at Hogwarts, as he said, "Of course. _Finite_." His wand was pointed at the door as he cancelled the Locking Charm whilst making certain that the Muggle-repelling Charm was still active.

It was not long after Madam Bones left that Harry found Aunt Petunia to be looking at him warily. Her voice quavering a bit, she said, "Vernon told me you can do… _that_ now."

He smirked. "Why yes, Aunt. I got a waiver from the Ministry of Magic." He swished his wand, doing nothing more threatening than sending a small shower of sparks from the wand, but she flinched noticeably, and turned back to the dishes she was placing in the dishwasher.

Chortling, he went back up to his room, and began his Occlumency exercises. He hoped his shields would be good enough to convince Snape to back off if he ever tried Legilimency.

* * *

Author Notes:

As regards the DoM - the Ministry may be incompetent but I don't think the research and development people (which seems to be what the DoM is part of) are _that_ stupid, and if they wanted to nail someone idiotic enough to use a spell where they shouldn't, they'd have a way to do it. (Can you imagine accidentally smashing the case that held brains? Yeah, they'd want to nail you right quick. :P ) Enter the passive spell-sensor network. I further assume that not the entire Ministry of Magic has them in order to cut down on false alarms, and also because Fudge doesn't think it's that important to protect everybody in the Ministry.

Deathly Hallows canon directly contradicts some of Harry's motives here; I wasn't really pleased with how JKR wrote the scene where Harry successfully employs the Cruciatus Curse. Although a careful reading of the book shows that JKR employs the element of 'an eye for an eye' in that a Death Eater gets the Imperius Curse put on him, and one of the Carrows is Cruciated just as was done to students, the time and place for Harry to use it was not, IMO, written with enough of a eye to literary or dramatic impact.

That having been said this chapter was originally conceived and written at a time when I saw several fics employing very similar-seeming cliche type logic regarding the Unforgivables, such as the "Imperius-can-be-used-to-save-people" or "mercy-killing!Avada Kedavra" type. I don't really like that logic. As Dumbledore notes, again using DH canon, as well as what was in HBP, the use of certain curses is a stain on one's soul, and in the canonverse, since souls exist and are markers/anchors for one's physical essence, purposely harming it is a pretty serious thing.

Thanks go to **Maddevillechilde** for the beta work on the original version :)


	5. Harry's Political Education

**A Knut to Start the Revolution**  
Chapter 5

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to J. K. Rowling.

* * *

Hermione Granger counted her lucky stars that she had parents who supported her talent and skills in magic, even if they were without the ability to use it themselves, as she was about to ask for a ride to Harry's house to visit with him to discuss his plans – his crazy, half-baked, yet oddly compelling plans. Minister for Magic, of all things! By contrast, reactivating the DA and creating some kind of elite squad within the illicit club was almost prosaic by comparison.

Her mother readily agreed and drove her over into Little Whinging. The drive only took about half an hour in the off-peak suburban London traffic.

They parked some ways down the road, then walked up to the house which Hermione deduced had to be Number Four Privet Drive. She critically regarded the house that sat before her. It was exactly like every other in the area, as though it had been produced from some kind of standardised mould, like ball bearings or car crankshafts from a steel works. The street, like every single other, was utterly, completely, absolutely dreadfully pedestrian and boring. It was perfect, though, for people with all the imagination of concrete pavement.

Like the _Dursleys_.

For the first time, Hermione viscerally appreciated just how much her friend's relatives disliked anything that departed from their round-peg-in-a-round-hole world, and she pitied Harry all the more for it. Not that she would ever tell him, as she knew how sensitive the young wizard was about his home life.

Without further ado, she and her mother walked up to the front door and rang the bell.

/\/\/\

Harry Potter was reviewing his Defence books that Hermione had gotten him when he heard the doorbell ring. As he had no idea about who it could be, he cautiously went down the stairs, and peeked through the security eyepiece in the door. To his surprise, it was Hermione herself, along with a woman that must be her mother. Still slightly stunned, he yanked the door open and said, "What incident made us friends?"

The bushy-haired girl seemed taken aback somewhat, before she replied, "It was when a rather ugly troll tried to attack me, and you and Ron came and saved me."

Her mother turned a rather astonished glance to Hermione, who blushed and said, "Mum, I explained this to you before, remember?"

Harry, realising that Hermione's parents probably still were unused to the notion of such beings and beasts as existed in the magical world, tried to smooth things over by saying, "Yeah, it was all over really quickly, honestly, Mrs Granger."

"I must say there are times when I still have trouble grasping the world that my daughter inhabits, but you seem like a nice enough young man. But are you one of those kind that thinks we're inferior, or something like that? Hermione wrote home once about how a horrid boy named Dragon something or other used a foul word to describe her."

Hermione looked scandalised, and Harry firmly replied, "Absolutely not, Mrs Granger. I have lived in this world, the Muggle world, just as much as Hermione did for the first eleven years of her life, and my parents, in fact, were murdered because they were targets of the man who held those kinds of beliefs. You won't find me casting aspersions on anyone Muggle except my relatives, but that's purely personal."

Hermione's Mum said, "Well, I had to make sure. John and I know so little about this world, so I had to make sure. I'm sorry if I upset you. My name's Elizabeth, by the way."

Harry smiled and shook hands. "It's good to meet you, um, Elizabeth?"

"It's okay to call me that. In any case, shall I assume Hermione is safe here?"

Harry replied, "Absolutely. I don't fully understand it myself, but there are protections of a magical type here that will prevent me from being harmed by those like that bloke Draco Malfoy Hermione probably wrote to you about."

Elizabeth nodded and said, "I'll have to take your word for it. Hermione, shall I come back for you or would you prefer to take a taxi?"

Hermione thought for a moment and said, "I'll take a taxi. I could be here for quite a while."

Elizabeth reached into her purse, handed Hermione some money and said, "That's fine, honey. Take care, both of you."

Harry and Hermione both waved as Mrs Granger drove off down the road.

Harry ushered Hermione inside the house and shut the door. He grinned broadly, saying, "Come on upstairs; I've got some news for you!"

Hermione was never one to be able to refrain from indulging her curiosity as she asked, "What happened?"

He smirked as he led her upstairs. "I'll show you my room."

Hermione seemed puzzled, until Harry threw open the door and showed his magically-expanded bedroom. For some moments, she looked gobsmacked, before saying a little shrilly, "Oh my God! Harry! You did _magic!_ I can tell; the room looks out of proportion to the rest of the house, and your bed is a near replica of the bunks in Gryffindor Tower. How come you haven't been served notice of a trial yet?"

Her bespectacled friend picked up his waiver, and showed it to the girl, who gasped and reached out to hug him.

"This is_ fantastic_!" she told him, "I always thought it was so unfair that Muggleborns couldn't do magic at home while purebloods and even half-bloods in wizard houses can get away with just about any magic performed as long as there's an adult nearby."

Harry nodded in agreement, adding, "It's great. I wrote to Madam Bones and she had that sent back, no questions asked. Dumbledore even told her I should have gotten a waiver like this after fourth year. How about that, eh? Of course, that idiot Fudge never would have allowed it, especially after he decided I was a crackpot raving lunatic for saying Voldemort came back.

"Anyway, Hermione, what brings you here? Not that I'm upset, mind."

The girl sat primly on his bed as he sprawled comfortably in his transfigured chair.

"As you asked," she informed him, "I have done research on exactly how wizarding elections work.

"First of all, the Minister for Magic is chosen by the Wizengamot under normal circumstances. Minister Fudge, for example, stood for election after Minister Bagnold retired about six years ago. Multiple candidates can stand for election, and in such a case the candidate with the highest number of votes is chosen. If only one candidate stands, that person must be voted on with a 'yes' or 'no'. In that case, fifty percent plus one of the Wizengamot must approve. If that fails, an interim Minister for Magic must serve. Traditionally Ministers for Magic, whether fully elected or interim, have tended to come from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Minister Fudge was an exception, as he was in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.

"Impeaching an existing Minister for Magic requires a petition before the Wizengamot. To be successful, the petitioner must state his or her case before the entire Wizengamot, and the current Minister for Magic is allowed to rebut any allegations brought up in the course of proceedings. Impeachment and subsequent removal must be approved by sixty-six percent of the Wizengamot.

"Since the full Wizengamot has fifty people, then thirty-three members of the Wizengamot must vote in favour of your petition. Incidentally, an impeached Minister for Magic can run for the position in a subsequent election. So even if you have Fudge removed, he could run against you and regain his office.

"The Wizengamot may also choose to convene and remove a Minister for Magic even without a petitioner, in which case there is no hearing; a vote is taken and, in that case, the situation is likely so severe that only a fifty percent plus one majority is needed."

"My suggestion to you is that you avoid the perception of attempting to 'take over', by working behind the scenes to remove Fudge. Since you appear to be on good terms with Madam Bones, and additionally, Headmaster Dumbledore has been reinstated to Chief Warlock, you should write to them both suggesting they convene and remove Fudge. Your only problem is that they may wonder why you are taking such a keen interest in removing the man."

It took Harry some minutes to fully digest and arrange all of her information, but when he felt reliably unconfused again, he said, "I like your ideas, Hermione. I'll write to Madam Bones, but not Dumbledore. She can suggest to Dumbledore that he convene the Wizengamot, and rush through a motion for dismissal of the Minister for Magic. Once the elections are scheduled, I'll put my name in at that point.

"Now, considering that elections are decided by the Wizengamot, it almost seems a waste to try campaigning in front of the general public – not that I'm complaining _that_ much as it means I don't need to make speeches or shake hands with thousands of people."

Hermione smiled slightly and said, "Sorry, Harry, but I still think it would be a good idea to campaign publicly."

Over his groan, she continued briskly.

"Look. If the Wizengamot members think you have a fairly solid backing from the population as a whole, it seems reasonable that they might not want to vote against you, on the grounds that it would be easiest to take the path of least resistance."

Harry mulled that over for a few moments, before grudgingly admitting the soundness of her idea. He still hated the notion of standing in front of people, speaking about… what? He had no idea what kind of 'political platform' he should have. Quite frankly it seemed like such common sense – Remus Lupin was a werewolf, and surely there had to be other werewolves like him, and it was hardly fair to subject them to all sorts of arbitrary laws. Then there was Hermione's situation – why _should_ Muggleborns be handicapped by purebloods intent on entrenching their privilege?

Harry finally spoke up again. "Hermione, I'm wondering – what's the name for the political ideas you and I have about the wizarding world, anyway? I mean, it seems straightforward, doesn't it? We want equality for Muggleborns and we don't like pureblood arrogance, and we don't like laws that keep people like Professor Lupin from getting good jobs. But I have no idea what that's called."

Hermione grinned; it seemed like she had hit the mother lode as she said, "Harry, you have just described what the Americans in particular call a populist. You, Harry Potter, are the wizarding world's populist."

The word seemed to strike a chord within Harry as he mused, "What about a slogan? How would we say whose side we're on?"

"It should be really simple. Everything you say or discuss should be gotten across in as simple a manner as possible. People will remember what you say more, if they don't have to remember much of it. I would just bet that Fudge will have grand speeches about bettering the wizarding world, et cetera, ad nauseam. _You_ can respond with a simple broadside: 'Since when is it bettering the wizarding world to deny the return of You-Know-Who?'"

Harry grinned; he was really starting to like where things were going.

"And for your campaign slogan," Hermione added, "I've got the _perfect_ idea! Because almost anyone who knows you knows what you generally think about the way the wizarding world works, all you have to do is have on all your campaign material, 'On Your Side'. And you just keep hammering away with that message to all the werewolves, vampires, house-elves, centaurs, Muggleborns and half-bloods. Here's another one: 'Fudge wants to keep letting purebloods help themselves to more privilege at your expense. Harry Potter thinks they can take care of themselves. He's on your side.'"

Harry savoured that, saying, "I like it. I definitely like it."

The two went on for some time, batting around some campaign ideas. The only minor issue that Harry had yet to tackle was how to get legal emancipation, if such a concept existed.

/\/\/\

Meanwhile, Remus Lupin was sitting in the spare room at Grimmauld Place, re-reading Harry's letter. Unfortunately, the full moon had fallen on the same day as the day Harry's letter arrived, so he had been in no shape to go visit the boy. The transformation had been worse than usual, and he knew it had to do with losing Sirius Black. _Again_. Permanently, this time.

Now that he was recovered, he decided to write back. Sirius had been a friend, brother and father rolled into one for the boy; while Remus knew he could never be quite like Sirius, he could at least try for a sort of 'uncle' role. He'd always been the most mature of the Marauders, anyway.

_Dear Harry, _he wrote,

_I have recovered from the full moon transformation, and can respond to your letter now. I'd be glad to visit you and talk if you need to. I miss Sirius as well, and it would be good to remember some of the good times we had. I may be visiting in any case, but I haven't been informed of that. If I have not been sent over for other reasons, I will visit on my own. Let me know if you have any particular time or date preferences._

_Remus Lupin._

Remus didn't want to make it too widely-known that the Order had people patrolling the Privet Drive area, especially when owl correspondence was not secure. He wondered if Harry had been given the mate to the two-way mirror Sirius had, which had been left on the desk in his bedroom when Sirius had been taking care of Buckbeak.

Remus had wondered why Sirius had never mentioned using that mirror, and thought that perhaps Harry didn't know the significance of a small hand mirror. He made a mental note to check into that when he visited Harry.

He wished he'd kept in better touch with the boy, but travelling around Britain and Europe, trying to negotiate with werewolf clans was an exhausting, thankless task, especially when one day out of the month he transformed, followed by at least a day's worth of recovery time. If it hadn't been for the stipend Dumbledore had wangled out of Order funds, he'd be dead-flat broke. Sirius had never pushed his wealth in Remus' face, and had confined himself to subtly trying to get the werewolf better clothes, and insisting that he stay at Grimmauld Place for as long as necessary, for which Remus _had_ been thankful; he just never liked knowing a lot of what he had in life came from some form of charity, rather than any work he did on his own.

He just hoped the universe was nice enough to grant second chances. He would need them with Harry.

* * *

Author Notes:

Thanks go to **Maddevillechilde** for the beta work on the original version of this. :) I added a segment because I thought it rather unlikely that a girl's mother would drop her off to see a friend, sight unseen, when she had never met that person before.

As always, I welcome concrit. Please let me know how you think I'm doing. :)


	6. Reconnecting with Remus

**A Knut to Start the Revolution**  
Chapter 6

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to J. K. Rowling.

* * *

Hermione Granger had bad news for Harry Potter.

The two were chatting on the telephone on a Saturday, Harry taking advantage of the fact that Uncle Vernon had taken Aunt Petunia and Dudley out for a trip to London. It seemed Duddykins wanted to get a laptop computer (Harry thought the whole exercise to be quite pointless; his cousin already had a perfectly fine computer in his bedroom, and Heaven knew the dunce wasted enough time blasting aliens on it), and so far be it from his parents to deny him every wish he had.

His friend had said, "I'm sorry, Harry, but there is no way for you to act as a legal adult without a guardian, unlike in the United States. British Muggle law states that you need to be eighteen to be considered an adult, and while wizarding customs once allowed surviving heads of pureblood families, if underage, to act with full adult authority, they hold no force now that the Ministry is in charge, and like Muggle law, wizarding law says you must have a magical guardian until you turn seventeen. That having been said, there is the possibility that loopholes exist with regard to appointments to the Wizengamot, which would be your entering wedge."

Harry groused mentally as he realised nobody would elect him Minister for Magic if he still needed someone to sign all his Hogwarts paperwork. Dumbledore had apparently been appointed his magical guardian, but could that not be changed on his request? And as for his Muggle guardians, what they did not know would not hurt them.

He replied, "Well, there goes _that_ plan. Look, is there a way to apply to change my magical guardian? I'd kind of like Remus Lupin to be my guardian; I think he'd appreciate it, as he's my last tie to Sirius and my parents."

The witch said, "I don't know, Harry. The discrimination against werewolves may extend to prohibiting them from being guardians of non-werewolves. But I'll look into it for you."

"Thanks, Hermione. That's all I ask, that you try to find a way."

He rang off, and pondered to himself what to do next when Hedwig flew down to him, depositing Remus Lupin's letter to him. Eagerly, Harry wrote back, his reply essentially saying, "the sooner you visit, the better."

As good as his word about arriving, the werewolf arrived the next day.

/\/\/\

Harry was outside the Dursley house, pretending to do the weeding. It was easier to do that than listen to Dudley's idiotic smarming about how his laptop, which cost two thousand pounds, and had a tiny nine-inch screen, would be the newest part in his arsenal of gaining acceptance at Smeltings. Somehow, Harry doubted that the laptop would gain him much headway among the computer enthusiast crowd there.

So because he was pretending to do the weeding, and actually paying attention to his surroundings, he was unsurprised when he saw a slight shimmer nearby; his suspicions were confirmed when one of the bushes rustled just a bit in a way that was clearly not due to any breeze. A disembodied voice said, "Hello, Harry."

Grinning to himself, and reminding himself to look at the garden, Harry answered, "Hullo, Remus. I'm glad you could make it. Want me to knock off the weeding and show you my bedroom?"

Remus's voice radiated concern as he said, "Harry, have your relatives got you doing these awful chores again? You know you can write to Moody; he'd be glad to come straighten them out."

HArry stood up, brushing off his pants and saying reassuringly, "Don't worry. I just wanted to get out of the house for a bit. Look, why don't you take off that cloak and come ring the doorbell properly? I've got a few surprises for you."

Harry had the feeling that Remus was looking at him askance, but the slight shuffling he heard on the grass told him all he needed to know as he put the gardening tools back in the shed. He then headed indoors, pointedly disregarding Dudley and co., who were currently seated at the dining table, apparently enthralled by the expensive portable computer.

He waited by the door, and when he heard the bell ring, he bellowed, "That's for me. Don't come to the door!"

Ignoring Dudley's predictable "Sod off, you little—", Harry opened the door, grinned at Remus Lupin, and said, "Come on upstairs, please. I'm happy you've come over. How did you set it up?"

As the pair walked upstairs to the smallest bedroom, the werewolf said, "It was hardly difficult, really. I just asked Albus if I could take Tonks's patrol for the day, and he allowed it. It seems she's getting a bit tired of brown hair all the time, anyway."

Harry said, with his hand on the doorknob, "I can imagine that. You know she stumbles even when she's trying to look inconspicuous? That's how I knew she was on patrol around here."

"Well, we're here, Harry. Do you mind opening the door?"

The teenager smirked in a way that suddenly struck Remus as being much like James's when he had a brilliant prank in mind, and the werewolf automatically began running through a list of all the things to watch out for as soon as the door opened.

Luckily, all that he saw was a normal bedroom…

Wait.

The room was out of proportion to the rest of the house. It wasn't obvious if you weren't looking too closely, but he could tell the room seemed to be about double its true size. The bed looked too close to that of the beds in Gryffindor Tower, and Harry's clothing seemed less worn and threadbare than what he'd seen the boy wearing on other occasions.

After giving Harry the hairy eyeball, he said sternly, "Harry, you're not allowed to do magic outside—"

"—Of school, I know, Remus. This changes things."

He read over the waiver that was handed to him, and with a rare unforced grin, he said, "Excellent! I'm really happy for you. But how did you get this waiver? Amelia Bones doesn't just hand them out."

"True, but I wrote to her and asked for this waiver. I figured that idiot Fudge owed me a few favours after the way he attempted to ruin my reputation in the Daily Prophet before Voldemort showed his face. I reckoned Fudge wouldn't try to block Bones from issuing the waiver, and I was right."

Brown eyebrows lifted as he marvelled at the strategic thinking. He didn't remember Harry ever calling in favours before, or using his status as the Boy Who Lived to wangle a few extra things for himself. Judiciously applied, such manoeuvring on Harry's part could lead to some… interesting… political changes at the Ministry and at Hogwarts.

He shut the door behind them, and Harry sat on his bed, while gesturing at the chair for Remus to sit. Green eyes seemed to lose their sparkle, and softly, he said, "How do you feel about… Sirius?"

Sighing, the older man said, "I won't deny it's… it's hard. But it's one of the things we have to deal with as life goes on. I've gone a long time believing that none of the Marauders, besides me, were still alive in any useful capacity. Having Sirius back was like a gift each and every day he was here. I think he'd like it if we'd remember him like that, rather than forgetting to live at all."

Harry could see the faraway look in Remus's eyes as he said, with some effort, "Well, maybe you could tell me about some of the times in school? Like, where my Dad and Sirius just… acted funny?"

The werewolf could tell that his younger fellow was still feeling a bit sensitive about the memory he had seen in Snape's Pensieve. He dredged up some of his memories and said, "Hmm. Well, why don't I tell you about the time James started noticing girls early in second year, and decided he liked Lily? He got this idea…"

And soon, the two of them were laughing at stories of James's early years, when he tried, and failed, to get the attention of Lily Evans, or when he would prank Professor Burbage in Muggle Studies, earning him a few detentions, although the professor never seemed to get too angry about the pranks.

The werewolf had just finished telling the story of the time when Sirius had accidentally hit Peter with a flower-growing charm, making lilies (naturally) sprout up in place of Peter's hair. They had ended up having to go to Madam Pomfrey, Sirius apologising profusely all the way. He'd meant, he said, to cast the charm at a vase, but his arm had twitched when James had touched his shoulder.

The werewolf had looked at his watch, and said, "Merlin! I'm sorry, Harry. I've been talking to you for a lot longer than I had intended. I was supposed to be patrolling for real, but it's all right, honestly. Nobody will get mad at you, except perhaps Severus. But then we know the man has his own… _unique_ situation."

Harry chuckled at Remus' talent for understatement, and said, "I'm just thankful you were able to tell me those stories. It's not often I get to hear about things like this."

"If you want me to visit you regularly, I can do that. Headmaster Dumbledore has asked me to take some time off from trying to visit the werewolf clans. It's been a thankless job, Harry. Far too many of them think they may have a chance at a better life with Voldemort in charge. Personally, I'm not so sure. He's a pureblood supremacist and part of that ideology, of necessity, means 'half-breeds' are to be scorned and reviled. Look at how some people view centaurs, for example. But anyway, I didn't mean to bring up all that extraneous political talk."

"Still, it's there." Harry replied. "And heaven knows I'll be in it soon enough. But anyway, I was wondering if I could, um, ask you for something."

Amiably, Remus said, "Certainly, Harry. What can I do for you?"

A bit uncertainly, Harry replied, "Well, you know how Sirius was my guardian, or would have been if he had ever been declared innocent. Anyway, I'd like it if you could be my magical guardian, or godfather at least, even if the Ministry might not recognise it. Er, that is, if you want to."

The werewolf was clearly touched by the request, and he said softly, "I'd be more than happy to, Harry. I was, frankly, a bit worried about whether we would still be able to get along after I found out that Albus had told you something he had been withholding from you – I didn't get much in the way of details but it was clear that you and he hadn't parted on very good terms. I know I didn't do much to insist that you be kept more fully informed about why it was so important to learn Occlumency. I can't imagine that Severus was that helpful about it, though."

The teen shook his head, trying not to get too upset over the whole Occlumency fiasco.

"No," he said. "Dumbledore said he was trying to make it so Snape and I could get along, but that didn't work out too well. I've been trying to learn it from books, which explain what 'clearing your mind' actually means. That's all he really did, was say, 'clear your mind', and then hit me with Legilimency attacks. Admittedly, I didn't take the time to learn Occlumency properly, but…"

He sighed, and with some effort, said lightly, "Well, that's all water under the bridge now. It turned out Occlumency wasn't even the key to getting Voldemort out of my mind; it was…" He willed his voice to stay steady as he finished with, "it was the love I felt for Sirius that did it."

Remus stayed quiet; he was clearly trying to find words which wouldn't expose still-tender wounds in each person's psyche, and failing.

After a few moments of silence, Harry said awkwardly, "Well…thanks for coming here. Can you… can you come back again soon?"

Remus smiled wanly and replied, "Of course. I'll see if I can be put on the normal patrol schedule so we can talk like this on a regular basis. I think Moody is on next. I fully expect his statements regarding 'constant vigilance' to be loudly proclaimed in my ear back at headquarters if he catches me inside here, you know."

Harry chuckled. "I remember the time he said I shouldn't put my wand in my back pocket because I could blow my buttocks off."

The older man was clearly trying not to laugh out loud as he opened the door, and his eyes danced merrily as he accompanied Harry down the stairs. At the front door, he got his composure back and was able to speak without chuckling. "Harry, I want you to know I'll try to be available to you as much as I can. James would have wanted me to be there for you."

Harry impulsively reached out, hugging the older man. Remus, although startled, returned the embrace fondly, and smiled warmly as Harry slowly broke the embrace, blushing a bit. A bit nervously, he opened the door, and said, "Goodbye, Remus."

"And goodbye, Harry. I'm only an owl away."

Harry waved, smiling, as his – Friend? Uncle? - reached under a privet hedge, and picked up a battered suitcase which, he was sure, contained Mad-Eye's invisibility cloak. He closed the door, as Remus began walking along Privet Drive.

Harry thus began composing his letter to Madam Bones.

_Madam Bones,_

_I am writing on a matter of importance to me. I have been told that Headmaster Albus Dumbledore is my magical guardian. However, I would like to petition to have Remus Lupin become my magical guardian. If Sirius Black had been declared innocent, he would have likely been able to become my magical guardian. One of his best friends and my last tie to my family is Remus Lupin; those two reasons are why I want to have my magical guardian changed._

_I realise this may cause controversy within the Ministry if there are laws in place which prevent werewolves from becoming guardians, but I want to emphasise that I am cognisant of the reasons for staying in the Muggle world over summer vacations, and in any case I have only a year until majority, and would not be staying in the same residence with Mr Lupin during my school years. Thus, any alleged danger to me is moot.  
_

_With kind regards,  
Harry Potter._

The boy then looked up a charm to make the letter visible only to the recipient or sender, and executed it. The parchment glittered a bit, then resumed its normal colour. Harry then placed it in an envelope, remembering to apply a magical seal which would only open in the event that it was handled by Amelia Bones.

Harry then set the letter aside, shushing Hedwig when she hooted indignantly. He said, "Sorry, girl. I have to wait until Hermione tells me how to properly petition for a change of magical guardian; this is my guarantee that it will happen."

Somewhat mollified, the owl fluttered her feathers, and accepted an owl treat from Harry.

* * *

Author Notes:

An addendum - so you folks are aware, in 1996 a laptop was usually a 486SX-25 with 8 megs of RAM and had a really expensive thin-film transistor screen, and they could be passive or active matrix. Of course the active matrix screens cost a lot more. :P I pulled the figure of two thousand pounds out of my head, but the exchange rate into Canadian dollars makes that over four thousand, which was about right for a very "top-end" laptop which would be obsolete in less than three years. Heehee.

Thanks go to **Maddevillechilde** for the beta work on the original version.

I corrected a couple of anachronisms and a plot inconsistency relative to a later chapter.


	7. Magical Guardian

**A Knut to Start the Revolution**  
Chapter 7

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to J. K. Rowling.

* * *

The next day, Harry woke up, and continued his reading. He decided to slog through the second of three books Hermione had gotten on Occlumency. All three had the Hogwarts seal on them, with a prominent warning on the inner cover stating that they were from the Restricted Section and that they had better be returned when Madam Pince said so _or else_. He decided not to think about what sort of timed spells might be on a library book from the Restricted Section, and got on with his reading.

Hedwig had left the room around then, and why she did so became clear when she came back towards eleven o'clock. Hermione had owled over instructions on how to apply for a change of magical guardian, and it seemed that the process was designed to be as boring as possible – fill in birth information, current residence, current guardians, circumstances surrounding guardianship, reasons for desiring a change of guardian, and any special circumstances with respect to any of the above, and fill in said information in triplicate.

Harry eyed the rather thick packet with distaste, as he noted that there was to be one form for himself, one for the Ministry, and one for the current guardian. He got a cramp in his hand just looking at all the paperwork, and hoped that a duplication charm would alleviate some of his trouble. With that in mind, he read over Hermione's letter, and realised he'd forgotten to turn the page; sure enough, she had written that he could use a spell named '_Effingo stilus_', to reproduce his handwriting on the documents, as they were not charmed against the use of that spell.

Before Harry got to work, however, he decided to clear the way by sending off the letter to Amelia Bones. Hedwig gladly scooped it up in her beak, and zoomed out the window, as he sat down and got to work filling out the forms.

Later on, Harry gave up halfway through, having gotten bogged down in the paperwork. He turned back to his Defence reading, and was absentmindedly practicing the wand movements for some advanced protective shields for most of the afternoon. He was thus a bit surprised when Hedwig returned close to suppertime. Madam Bones had replied.

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_It comes as a bit of a surprise that you are petitioning for a change of guardian. In point of fact, your situation is a bit unusual. I have been doing some quiet investigating, and you seem to have slipped through a crack in the system._

_Because you are a half-blood and not Muggleborn, your magical guardian was not automatically registered as Albus Dumbledore. You, in fact, have no magical guardian. This has not been an issue in the past as your Muggle guardians can act as proxy magical guardians, or when at Hogwarts, Albus has acted in loco parentis._

_If you still wish to petition to have Remus Lupin officially named your guardian in the magical world, then please submit the appropriate forms. If you have not already obtained them, please request a Change of Guardian packet from the Ministry._

_Sincerely,  
Amelia Bones  
Head, Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

Harry was puzzled. Was this the same sort of flaw in the system that had kept him from undergoing some kind of basic orientation for Muggleborns? There had to be one, surely. For all intents and purposes he _was_ one, so why had Dumbledore not sent McGonagall instead of Hagrid? The lovable half-giant had helped Harry as best he could, and Harry was certainly grateful for it, but Minerva McGonagall could have given him a more comprehensive overview of the wizarding world, and in particular what could be expected of him at Hogwarts.

Or, for that matter, some Ministry flunky could have come over and given him the basic once-over for what to expect at Hogwarts. Heaven knew if the Ministry had employees who could waste their time on cauldron bottom memos, they could spare the manpower to handle the ten to twenty Muggleborns that cropped up every year as they turned eleven years of age.

_Ah well, it can't be changed now_, he mused. He wanted an official connection to his father, somehow, even if it shamed him to realise that James had acted like a boorish prat on at least one occasion (and probably more). He wondered if Remus was patrolling that day, and looked out the bedroom window at the street. Sure enough, a nondescript, somewhat shabbily dressed man was ambling down the road, apparently unconcerned with anything except the fine summer weather. Harry rushed downstairs, and stuck his head out the front door to get Remus's attention.

Shortly after, the werewolf was in Harry's room again, and the latter sat on his bed while Lupin took the chair.

"Thanks for coming up," Harry said. "I've got a package here where I request a change of guardian, and… well, you can see how nasty it is."

The Marauder replied, "I can see that. Perhaps you'd like some help?"

"Yeah. That's sort of why I asked you to come up, but there's something else I wanted to ask you about. You see…" Harry sighed, "…Sirius gave me this at Christmastime."

He dug through his trunk and carefully lifted out the broken hand-mirror, along with the shards of glass that had scattered around it at the bottom.

Lupin's melancholy expression rankled, and Harry snapped defensively, "Look, I didn't _mean_ to shatter the mirror, but I was so out of sorts, I'd promised myself—" He sighed. "Well, it doesn't matter now. The point is, I had a way to communicate with him and I didn't even _use_ it!"

The werewolf spoke softly. "I had been meaning to ask you about this, as I have the mate to that mirror now. It was on Sirius's bedroom desk, and I found it when I briefly went into his bedroom after that horrible night. But anyway, perhaps we should get your mirror fixed. Then we have a way to communicate."

Harry nodded resignedly, and handed over the mirror frame plus the shards of glass.

The professor in Remus returned, as he began speaking in the familiar tone that Harry recalled from his third-year Defence classes.

"Now let's see – perhaps a simple _Reparo_ will fix it, although I don't know if it will restore the charms James and Sirius put on it. So, let's give it a try."

Remus cast the spell, and the mirror was restored – at least to its function as a reflection of an image. He returned it to Harry and said, "All right. Now, I'll take my mirror and go outside your door briefly. Hold it in your hand, and we'll see if it works after I call your name."

Not wanting to get his hopes up too much, Harry nervously fiddled with the mirror as he watched the werewolf step outside the door. A few seconds later, a tinny, "Harry Potter!" could be heard, and he fumbled to respond. He held up his mirror, and he could see Lupin's careworn visage looking out at him. Harry couldn't help but grin at the opportunities this presented.

He called, "Could you come back inside now?"

The door opened, and the older man grinned.

"I'd forgotten how fun this could be. I borrowed this once from Sirius when James insisted he needed help during a detention. I believe it was sixth year, and Miner-ah, Professor McGonagall insisted that he do some homework for once in a detention instead of, as she put it, 'doing yet another brainless chore such as cleaning the floor of the Transfiguration classroom without magic'. Well, as luck would have it, James got stuck on one of his Charms assignments, and of course, Lily hadn't yet started going out with him so she couldn't tell him the answer, so he had to deal with me. I remember giving him a bit of a hard time about it, but the mirrors lent a bit of clandestine excitement to a simple homework assignment."

Harry laughed and said, "Hermione would have just huffed at Ron and told him to mind his own business, but I think she'd have given in eventually. She has a real helping-people thing, you know."

"I've met very few who can match her for sheer brainpower, Harry. She's simply a treasure, and I'm happy to see that you two are friends. They sometimes say the friends you make at Hogwarts are the ones that see you through the rest of your life, and I'm forced to admit that's true. I don't really know anyone else as well as I ever knew the other Marauders; even Tonks doesn't really come close as she's not Sirius's age."

Remus got the melancholy look on his face again, and Harry, with a bit of effort, shifted the topic. "Could you tell me about some more of the pranks you say my Dad and Sirius did?"

With understanding in his eyes, the werewolf began to spin the tale.

"Well, it was Halloween in first year, if memory serves, and we wanted to play a prank on the Slytherins. James had Sirius and Peter tell us when no teachers were looking, while James and I were to shatter one of the pumpkins hovering in the air. We'd filled them all with a bit of Shrinking Potion, so that if one broke it would spill over the students. In retrospect that was a pretty foolhardy thing to do, but I plead the usual childish exuberance.

"Anyway, so we tried to blow up a pumpkin. The original intent of this was to prank Severus, but as it turns out – I think you'll appreciate this, Harry – we aimed slightly wrong, and our Reductor curses ended up striking several pumpkins as the spells scattered off each other. Well, Bellatrix Black… Lestrange now, was under one of them, and the potion got all over her, shrinking her head down to the size of a snitch!"

Harry's initial tenseness at the mention of Snape and Lestrange vanished as he chuckled, and then began laughing uproariously at the notion of the two of them getting their heads shrunk in front of the entire school. Finally, he ran out, and he gasped for breath as he tried to avoid falling off the bed. He got an idea or two for the Weasley twins to work on, if he could get hold of them sometime during the summer. A head-shrinking potion of some kind could be a useful thing during a battle, although he wasn't entirely sure how to get the maximum impact out of it.

Hiding his thoughts at the applicability of pranks to wartime uses, he recovered himself and said, "Got any more good ones like that?"

Remus grinned and said, "Well, there was the time…"

/\/\/\

After a few more stories, Harry and Remus got down to the nitty-gritty of filing for a change of magical guardian, and the latter expressed his surprise at finding out that no magical guardian had been formally appointed. Harry wondered why he had been given the impression that Dumbledore was his official magical guardian, and concluded he had simply jumped to that notion with insufficient information.

Under the "special circumstances surrounding the reason for petition to change guardians" section, Harry emphatically pointed out that he was aware of the precautions to take when being around a werewolf during the full moon, and that he would be at Hogwarts for ten months out of the year in any case.

He tried to avoid making digs at that idiot Fudge, knowing he'd nail the man sooner or later anyway. Instead of owling off the Ministry form, Remus said, "I'll have Arthur deliver these directly to Madam Bones. That way there will be no tampering with this application, and we can keep it out of the press if you like."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and said, "Thanks. It's not that I'm ashamed of you or anything, but you'd become a target if it were too widely known that you were my magical guardian, because Voldemort seems to like to get at me by getting through the people I know."

"Now, Harry, listen. None of us in the Order are stupid people. We all joined up knowing full well that we're putting ourselves on the front lines against Voldemort. So don't you think for one second that I'm any bigger of a target. I'm honoured that you want me to be a guardian to you, and hopefully I can make up for not being there for you in your Hogwarts years."

At the nod the younger wizard gave him, Remus continued. "Anyway, I'm afraid I have to go again. Now that we have the mirrors, call me any time – well, except perhaps at one in the morning."

The two grinned, and Harry mumbled, "Thanks for coming over."

Placing his hand on the boy's shoulder, the werewolf replied, "Don't feel that it's an imposition on me. I'm glad to have been able to spend some time with you. Alright?"

Harry nodded and embraced Remus briefly, then shyly withdrew from the hug. Harry saw the older man out the door, and then penned another brief missive to Amelia Bones.

_Dear Madam Bones,_

_I have had the paperwork sent off. You can expect to see it at some point._

_I am writing, however, to ask a favour of you. If a movement is not already afoot, can you please begin proceedings in the Wizengamot for a vote of no confidence in the Minister? I've been told I could petition before the Wizengamot for the removal of Minister Fudge, but the resulting vote requires sixty-six percent of the Wizengamot for successful removal._

_However, if the Wizengamot convenes itself and votes no confidence, the requirement is less stringent owing to the likelihood that the situation is dire enough to not require a petitioner and you can get away with only needing fifty percent plus one of the Wizengamot to successfully remove Minister Fudge via a vote of non-confidence._

_I have one final question; I know this may seem unusual, but it is my understanding that many of the pureblood families hold seats on the Wizengamot. If so, do the Potters have a seat, and can I assume it?_

_Sincerely,  
Harry Potter._

Hedwig was in her element as she delivered the letter, charmed and sealed as the previous one had been, with all due speed to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

* * *

Author Note:

The prank story that Remus relates here is reproduced from Sellea's Distant Memories, and has been used with her kind permission. It's a great HBP/TDH-canon-compliant Marauders-era fic. :)

Thanks go to **Maddevillechilde** for the beta reading of the original of this.


	8. The Order Convenes

**A Knut to Start the Revolution**  
Chapter 8

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to J. K. Rowling.

* * *

The Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, knew that his tenure was growing short, and it was essentially a matter of time before someone in the Wizengamot would get the notion to have him evicted after a vote of no confidence.

Now, a fair portion of the wizarding population regarded him as an idiot and a fool, and they were mostly right. However, even a man such as he was capable of seeing the writing on the wall, and could begin taking steps to try and soften the blow.

One of the first steps he could take came full force on that day in early July of 1996, as he summoned Amelia Bones to his office.

The witch entered his office, monocle firmly in place and her lips pursed. Cornelius sighed mentally as he knew the woman disapproved of his actions taken over the previous several months, and hoped he could stave off an attempt on his office from her quarter. Having never been of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Cornelius had always been a bit wary of the sway with which it held power in the Ministry, and with affairs as they were, it would not be unreasonable to assume Bones could use her position to try and force him out of office.

But the pleasantries must go on. "Good morning, Madam Bones. I, er, rather want to get your thoughts on how I should make things up to young Potter, you know, terrible thing to happen to him with You-Know-Who and all that."

Bluntly, she replied, "Well, you could start by apologising to him for the horrible way you and your underling attacked him in the _Daily Prophet_; I've also heard stories about what that woman got up to at Hogwarts under your authority, and so help me, Cornelius, if Umbridge has broken any laws—"

Slightly hysterically, Cornelius yelped, "She hasn't!"

At Bones's disbelieving glare, he muttered, "Well, at least as far as I know."

In a louder voice, Cornelius said, "That's all fine and well; I'll apologise to the young man. But what _else_ can I do? Surely the Ministry and the Boy-Who-Lived need to be seen to be, well, cooperating now."

"Hmpf. Well, one thing you _could _do, now that I'm thinking of it, is he has an application for a change of guardian. Usually, Ministry procedures—"

_Ah-ha_, thought Cornelius. Enthusiastically, he bellowed, "Never mind that! Bring the paperwork in and I'll waive all the usual."

Archly, she said, "Even if his proposed guardian is Remus Lupin, a known werewolf?"

Cornelius squeaked, "Oh." He cleared his throat and continued, saying, "Well, really, I suppose we can still dispense with all the usual rigmarole and whatnot. Just make sure the young man knows I helped him here, all right?"

Bones made an indistinct sound at the back of her throat, indicating her opinion of his sudden conversion back to wanting to stay on Potter's good side. "I'll bring you the paperwork. Be a man of your word and get it sent off as soon as possible. And _no_ trying to use this for publicity without the boy's permission!"

Bones's fierce scowl promised all sorts of retribution should he fail in any part of her instructions, and he quickly ushered her back out of his office as he planned to use his Ministerial Floo for some rearguard actions.

It was time to make sure he wouldn't get voted out too quickly by the Wizengamot.

/\/\/\

Amelia Bones, at her first-ever Order of the Phoenix meeting, marvelled that such a diverse group of people could get along. They could be a fractious, quarrelsome group indeed, and from what she had heard, the enmity between Sirius Black and Severus Snape had made these meetings even less easy to handle. The infamous painting of Walburga Black made itself well-known, before someone had the presence of mind to cast a silencing charm over the painting and pull the drapes to.

Albus Dumbledore had presented her to the group, and as he had promised, the vote was essentially _pro forma_; she was inducted as a full member, and rapidly brought the group up to date with what the Ministry was planning to do in the next few months. She also was able to give some details about the Ministry budget allocations, noting that Fudge had finally agreed to the hiring of more Aurors as well as a long-term plan to secure Azkaban without the need for Dementors.

In turn, others spoke, and she learned that Severus Snape had been slowly gaining the confidence of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; the dark wizard had a disturbing level of obsession with Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore, and apparently ranted quite freely about them both. The elderly Headmaster took the statement with his usual calm imperturbability, and simply noted that "Voldemort has always had an obsession with proving himself the greatest wizard."

Remus Lupin summarised his work in liaising with the werewolf clans and unhappily reported that the only progress the Order would see would come if the Ministry changed its laws regarding werewolves. Hagrid was of a similar mind regarding the giants, and said, "Might be best to jus' leave 'em to 'emselves in Europe, maybe."

Beyond that, though, nobody seemed to have any better ideas, especially considering that giants could be rather hard to talk to at the best of times.

Clearing her throat, Amelia said, "I'll try and do what I can to break this log-jam at the Ministry. Cornelius Fudge is at least somewhat aware that his effectiveness will be limited unless he appeases those who are sympathetic to Albus and Mr Potter, who now comprise a fair bit of the wizarding population now that the Daily Prophet has rather swiftly shifted its stance."

Appreciative snickers from most of the table ensued, even from the normally unflappable Shacklebolt. Dumbledore said, "I realise the limitations that the Wizengamot faces in attempting to have these laws removed from the books. But that is a topic to be considered later. For now, I wish to emphasise to all of you that at some point, Harry Potter will be joining us in these meetings and it is to our advantage to begin preparing him for that day. For starters, Madam Bones has granted Harry an exemption from the usual restrictions on the use of magic during summer holidays. This is intended to give Harry a measure of self-defence capability."

Amelia thought she heard a faint snort from Snape, but ignored it as she listened to Dumbledore's speech.

"I wish to mention a somewhat obscure mental discipline that all of us might do well to learn. It is called Occlumency, and I and Severus are well-accomplished at it; whilst it is not commonly taught at Hogwarts, independent research can usually uncover the existence of such a mental discipline and we do have materials in the Restricted Section which cover it.

"I bring this up as a key feature of our ongoing fight against Voldemort will be to keep our secrets just that – secret. One of the things that is holding Mr Potter back is that he is not as yet an accomplished Occlumens. For reasons I cannot entirely go into, it is not possible for either me or Severus to teach Mr Potter from the beginning. It is my hope that the first among you who becomes accomplished at the technique can then, in turn, teach Mr Potter enough of the mental art to allow me to safely carry him the rest of the way. Where my time permits I shall teach you all what I can. Severus?"

The Potions master spoke up gratingly. "I suppose I can… devote some time to it. I do have other duties, however." Amelia raised her eyebrows. She had heard of some friction between Snape and Potter at Hogwarts, and was surprised that he agreed to helping, reluctantly or not.

Dumbledore's eye seemed to radiate amusement. "Never fear, Severus. I am sure at least one of us in the Order can get the books needed, eliminating the need to impose on your time too much."

Nymphadora Tonks smiled cheekily at the table, changing her hair colour from purple to blond, and doing an eerily accurate impression of Narcissa Malfoy before changing back. Amelia kept herself from jumping from the close resemblance.

The mood turned serious again as Molly Weasley began to object. "But Albus, the boy shouldn't have to join us so soon. Surely he can wait…"

"I am sorry, Molly, but the fact is, war is upon us – and if not now, certainly quite soon – and I freely admit that my own actions have left the boy less well-prepared than he should be at this stage. To this end, I must also make an accounting for his living circumstances."

Amelia hid a smile as the famous Prewett temper made itself known. "Indeed! I have no idea _what_ you were thinking, Albus, leaving him with those ruddy Muggles each year! Ron and Ginny have asked me more than once when we can bring Harry over to the Burrow this summer, and I will _not_ be put off with vague excuses this time!"

Later, Amelia would reflect that it did some good to see Severus Snape so neatly put in his place by Albus Dumbledore. At the time, though, she wondered if even Severus was safely immune from the sheer force of the Weasley matriarch's lungpower.

Silkily, that irritating voice made itself known. "Why we have to give this much attention to the boy, who is no doubt annoying his Muggle relatives as we speak, is beyond me. I am not privy—"

Molly bounced out of her chair, shrieking, "If you think for _one second_, Severus Snape, that you can insult that boy _in my presence_, I suggest you think again!"

Before the greasy man could respond, Dumbledore broke in, bellowing, "_Enough!_"

"First, to Molly, I owe you an apology. You see, I have been all-too-aware of the boy's circumstances since the day I left him with his Muggle relatives."

Amelia eyed Minerva McGonagall as the witch's lips thinned to the point of disappearing. Molly Weasley went pale at his admission.

"There is a prophecy that surrounds Harry, yes. It is this prophecy, and my fears for his protection, that caused me to act as I did. I chose his safety over his happiness. His relatives have never been kind to him and have begrudgingly given him a house and clothes. Yet his aunt's unwilling action has been the anchor for wards which keep out anyone of ill intent towards Harry, and it has been this which has caused me to hesitate over sending Harry to your residence, Molly, year after year. If I could have it any other way, I would.

Dumbledore's voice gained a hint of steel in it as he then said, "And as for you, Severus, it would behoove you to be a bit more sensitive to the fact that Harry Potter has not been raised by James Potter."

As soon as Snape opened his mouth, Dumbledore's voice hardened further. "_No_, Severus. Whatever you were about to say, cease this instant. I have grown more than a little tired of your constant insistence that 'the brat be expelled', that 'the brat be punished', and so on, for the last five years. Your continuous need to find fault with him should have died almost twenty years ago when you graduated Hogwarts."

Amelia couldn't help but feel satisfied at the disbelief on the man's sallow, hook-nosed face.

Dumbledore finished by saying, "Severus, I give him his leeway at Hogwarts because it is the only way I know how to compensate for leaving him to be treated like a house-elf at home. And you will _not_ use that against him in his sixth or seventh year."

At that, the entire table exploded in a cacophony of disbelieving yells, cries, and shouts. Hagrid simply sat, looking gobsmacked at the revelations being laid before him that night, while Remus was red in the face, shouting something at Dumbledore. Nymphadora Tonks and Molly Weasley weren't far behind, while Mad-Eye Moody was grumbling something that she might have put him on report for if he'd still been an Auror. McGonagall simply stared at Dumbledore, shaking her head.

Amelia, for her part, had heard most of it before. She steeled herself to weather the storm until Dumbledore could bring calm back to the table.

Eventually, order was restored to the Order, and Dumbledore wrapped things up quickly by re-confirming patrol schedules, and saying he would send inquiries to Harry to see if he would be willing to begin training. Within reason, any requests the boy had would be accommodated. Amelia made a quick mental note to give Shacklebolt and Tonks the necessary time off, if needed.

She kept quietly to herself as the Order moved back to more personal matters; in other words, Harry. Molly Weasley was vocal in her insistence that Harry be able to come to the Burrow the very instant Dumbledore said that Harry's presence was no longer necessary to sustain the wards on his aunt's house.

She also saw Remus Lupin eyeing Dumbledore with a clearly distrustful look. As it was, he said, "The Burrow is a far better place than this abominable residence, Albus. This summer is probably the first decent one he's had, thanks to Moody's words with Harry's uncle."

Dumbledore simply endured it all with a rueful glance at Amelia, who steadily looked back, thinking only, _I told you so, Albus Dumbledore_.

/\/\/\

Harry Potter knew nothing of the plans being made in his absence, and so was quite surprised that night when a flash of light in his room revealed the venerable phoenix, Fawkes. He swiftly moved to Harry's bed and deposited a small box, along with an envelope addressed to Harry.

Upon opening the envelope, he saw the familiar loopy script and realised it was from Dumbledore. Absently, he ran his fingers gently over the phoenix's feathers. He was rewarded with a soothing trill as he began reading.

_Dear Harry,_ it ran,

_I wish to again apologise to you for putting you with your relatives. It is ultimately indefensible to claim that it was for your safety, when the cost to your h__appiness was quite high, and I took no steps to correct the situation. However, as the wards which exist are the only ones currently powerful enough to ensure your safety, I must ask that you 'stick it out' for just one more summer after this one. I have heard that Alastor Moody has given your relatives sufficient warning, and I shall be holding a discussion with your relatives at some point regarding their treatment of you._

_In the meantime, you may rest assured that if ever there is a danger to you from any quarter, call for Fawkes. He has shown a connection to you that goes beyond his relationship with most other people that I know, and has guarded you against threats before. Since he is also capable of instant transport, __and, if the situation calls for it, you will be conveyed to Hogwarts._

_In the spirit of openness, I would like to let you know that any reasonable request for training or instruction you have, we will try to meet. Aurors Shacklebolt and Tonks will make themselves available upon request, and Minerva has expressed an interest as well in teaching advanced Transfiguration techniques which can be used in battle. I am also searching for a way to have you taught Occlumency without the need for Severus to conduct the lessons. I am, frankly, not yet certain I can safely conduct the lessons with you. I hope to resolve this by having other members of the Order taught this necessary mental protection technique, whereupon you can learn the basics from one of them. After that point, I can take up the task and safely bring you to the level needed to fully guard your mind against Voldemort._

_Please open the box that has been sent with this letter. It contains some things you may find useful. If there is anything else you wish, please do not hesitate to write._

_Yours,  
Albus Dumbledore._

Harry was somewhat surprised to see Dumbledore being so willingly helpful and, by previous years' standards, astonishingly free with his information. He remembered his earlier thoughts on how much he could push for with Dumbledore's newly-found desire to give him what he wanted. Filing that away for the moment, he turned to the box.

Inside it was another letter, a phoenix pendant, and a sheet of parchment that was thicker than the usual type he'd purchased at various stores. Along with that was a quill, but it was an unusual electric blue colour instead of the usual white. Having been harmed once by a quill of unusual colour, Harry cautiously set the blue quill gingerly on the parchment, and turned to the letter.

_Harry,_

_Included in this box is an emergency portkey, in the form of a phoenix pendant which you can wear around your neck. I have tried to arrange for as many fail-safes as possible for you in the event of potential danger to you. As you may or may not have noticed, Order members are patrolling around your residence. In addition, as I have mentioned, Fawkes will come to your aid if needed. He seemed unusually full of __'pep and vigour', as some Muggleborns of your parents' generation were wont to say, when I asked him if he would be willing to ensure your safety._

_However, in the event that you are unable to call for Fawkes, this portkey functions as a __'dead-man control'. What I mean is analogous to how certain Muggle devices have fail-safe mechanisms, your portkey will transport you to Hogwarts in the event that you are in danger, or fall unconscious by any cause other than normal sleep._

_Additionally, I have included a type of __'messenger parchment' and a Dictating Quill (which is a charming electric blue). Professor Flitwick was kind enough to enchant this parchment, which has been deliberately chosen to not resemble your normal school parchment so that you do not accidentally lose it. It works on the following principle: If you tap the parchment once with your wand, while saying "Activate", it will become ready to accept your writing, or receive messages from myself or anyone else who writes on my equivalent parchment. Mine has been charmed to retain permanent copies of the messages relayed, while yours is designed to be erasable and re-usable._

_Upon finishing communication, simply tap the parchment again, and say __"Deactivate". This is a safety measure designed to protect knowledge of this innovative method of communication that the Order has developed. Incidentally, the impetus for this was a chance comment made by Ted Tonks, a Muggleborn wizard who happens to be familiar with modern Muggle technology. It seems that since the 1970s, there have been rudimentary methods for Muggles to exchange messages, essentially in real-time, with electronic devices called 'computers'. The telegraph, of course, is the predecessor. We have adapted this and you are, in a sense, one of the pioneering testers of the magical version._

_I will now take a moment to explain some of the features of the parchment when activated. Please do so, and then return to this letter._

A bit surprised and perplexed (and making a note to talk to Hermione about this message technique), Harry set the letter aside, set the parchment on his desk and tapped it with his wand, saying "Activate," as directed.

To his surprise, the parchment began showing lines and some symbols. There were two rectangles of equal size, one on top of the other, on the page, along with a round circle in the bottom right corner of the top rectangle, marked "SEND". There was another round circle at the bottom left corner, marked "CLEAR". The symbol on the top left was a small lightning bolt, and in the other rectangle, the top left of that one held a small pair of half-moon glasses.

Harry's mouth quirked in amusement at Dumbledore's sense of flair, and resumed the letter.

_As you can see, the parchment is designed to allow instant written communication. The Dictating Quill will transcribe your words, and can be turned on or off by carefully twisting the nub at the bottom. It is currently __'off', but can be turned 'on' by twisting the nub so that the two halves of a black dot form a complete dot. In the 'off' position it can be used as an ordinary quill, or, if 'on', can be used as a normal quill if you do not speak while holding it in your hand. The message parchment is charmed to register the scratches of a quill as writing, and so does not require ink. If you choose to use the Dictating Quill on normal parchment, just use ink in the usual fashion._

_As for the message-transmission function of the parchment, the top box contains the words you write to me, and will automatically scroll up, line by line, to always allow at least one line free near the bottom of the box. Press your quill to the __"SEND" circle when you are ready to transmit your words to me. If you require more room than is available to write your next missive, press your quill to the "CLEAR" circle before you begin writing, and you will have the whole rectangle again available. The bottom box contains any replies which I send you. It will also scroll up as necessary. It will retain a history of the communication for as long as the parchment remains activated._

_Alternatively the parchment c__an be used to transmit warnings or one-way messages in the event no reply is needed._

_As you can see, the use of this parchment should be fairly straightforward. If you leave the parchment deactivated, any messages I send during that time they will be sent as soon as you activate your parchment, so I ask that you activate your parchment at least once a day and preferably once every twelve hours to ensure no urgent messages have gone unnoticed. In an absolute emergency I can remotely activate your parchment, but I would prefer not to do this as the magic needed__ to do so may be sufficient to register if someone happens to be searching for such a sudden surge in activity._

_Although I doubt that you will have any visions, and with Occlumency I trust they will be completely avoided, I would ask that you report any of them to me along with your assessment of whether they are true or false. Please rest assured that we _will _take your statements seriously and that we will not disregard your words even if a vision has turned out to be false._

_I will be able to let you know the very instant you are able to leave your residence, so that you can be packed and ready to go. The Weasleys are anxious to have you at the Burrow, and I am sure you would like to be there, if you can. If you wish alternate arrangements please do not hesitate to indicate them as soon as possible._

_You may keep the Dictating Quill for your own use, but I would ask that you return the parchment to me at the end of summer unless circumstances arise which would make it useful for you to keep it._

_- Albus Dumbledore._

Harry, despite himself, was impressed. If he'd had something like this at the beginning of fifth year, even if it had been a ruse to make him think he was involved, he'd have felt loads better about the extent to which the Order valued his participation and he might not have been so affected by Dumbledore's behaviour, which, in retrospect, he could see the rationale for.

He decided to give the messenger parchment a go. Picking up the Dictating Quill, and carefully turning the nub so the halves of the black dot lined up, he then placed the quill near the top left corner of the top rectangle. It sat up by itself, prepared to begin writing as he spoke.

Harry cleared his throat with an "ahem," and was amused when the quill actually attempted to write that. He picked it up, noting that the quill easily relinquished its tendency to stay in one place, and tapped the point gently against the CLEAR button. The writing erased, and Harry placed the quill where it had been before.

He began speaking. "Professor Dumbledore, if you're there I'd like to say thank you very much for the letter and the package. I also wanted to apologise for the way I acted in your office and I'll even be willing to pay for the replacement of any of the valuables."

Harry _did_ feel bad about the way he'd acted, but decided it couldn't hurt to let it be known so Dumbledore would feel mollified and be willing to help him out.

Waiting for a moment, he thought, and continued. "Er, I don't have any visions to report and I'd like to let you know that Hermione got all of the Occlumency books from the Restricted Section for me. Don't ask me how she convinced Madam Pince or Professor McGonagall to let her come to Hogwarts."

The rectangle was nearly full, so Harry picked up the quill and hit the SEND circle. He was a bit startled when he saw that the black writing became a purple colour. He relaxed, and surmised that this must be the way the parchment indicated if something had already been sent off. He then hit the CLEAR circle to make more space, and continued.

He considered the training offer, and decided it was a no-brainer. He _needed_ that training, not just for himself but for the DA and the elite squad he had planned.

"Still, I'd appreciate any training Shacklebolt, Tonks, or Professor McGonagall want to give me, and I guess the Occlumency training will be a help, too, as learning from books probably doesn't help if there's no Legilimens around to tell me if I'm doing it right or not.

"Finally, I'd like to say thanks for sending Fawkes and the portkey. At least I know I'm safe from anyone who wishes me harm, even if it happens to be an overbearing uncle or cousin."

Harry knew that last was a bit of a cheap shot, but he still felt a bit resentful about the way Dumbledore had meddled with his life and that of his relatives' lives, neither of whom had been consulted prior to that night in 1981.

Harry hit the SEND button again, turned the Dictating Quill off, then left the parchment activated and turned back to Fawkes, who preened under Harry's doting touch for a while. After a few minutes of this, Fawkes spread his wings, and gently tapped Harry's hand with his beak as he flew into the air, after which he flashed away in a brilliant show of light.

He grabbed up the two-way mirror that Remus had left him, and spoke, "Remus Lupin!"

Not long after, Remus's face appeared in the mirror, and he said, "Harry! What a surprise! Actually, you contacted me at a good time. The Order meeting was over about an hour or so ago, and Professor Dumbledore had to dash off and do something. I'm not sure what, but he said it was important."

Grinning, Harry said, "It's brilliant! Here, I wonder if this mirror can show you what I got."

Harry pointed the face of the mirror at the messenger parchment on his desk and the special Dictating Quill. He also noted the phoenix-pendant portkey, then turned the mirror back to see Remus's face. He said, "You saw all that?"

"Yes; quite innovative, I must say. It sounds as though you're one of the first testers of this new way of sending reports, since you won't need an owl and Hedwig _is_ quite distinctive."

A loud _hoot_ from said owl punctuated the conversation, and both Harry and Remus chuckled. Harry said, "Well, I'm glad to feel like I'm useful now, instead of just wasting my time trying to get scraps of news from the Muggle telly and such. Oh, I forgot! Fawkes delivered all this. He's gone now, but he flashed in and dropped off the box all that stuff came in.

"Anyway, how are you doing? Is everything, well, all right over there?"

Remus smiled slightly, and his voice was even as he replied. "I'm doing all right, Harry. Don't worry. And as for Order headquarters, which is where I am, nothing untoward has occurred. Just so you know, though, we may have to temporarily relocate. As you know, Sirius owned this house but as he's… gone, the question of who may obtain this residence is open to interpretation. Try not to worry for now. Albus will let you know as soon as he can, I'm sure. Or if I find anything out, I'll let you know. But for now, concentrate on your Occlumency."

Harry made a face. "Ugh. I hope Dumbledore doesn't put me back with Snape. He didn't actually say he wouldn't."

"No, I'm sure he won't. But so you know, he can't step in until you have the basics down. It would still prove so tempting a target for Voldemort to attack him through you in the initial stages, at least as I understand the situation. I'm afraid I won't be the best teacher for you as werewolves are somewhat natural Occlumens; apparently the presence of the wolf is… how shall I put it?

Remus's brow furrowed as he carefully continued. "I would put it akin to the confusion your vision experiences when you see a double image in broken glass. The wolf's presence in my mind seems to create a similar poor focus to a Legilimens. At least, all this is what Albus explained to me after the meeting broke up when I expressed my desire to help you, so that any suggestions I make would be of limited use. I suspect Hestia Jones or Tonks might be the first to grasp the basics and be able to pass those on to you."

Harry said, "Well, I'm sorry I can't learn it from you but I can see why, I guess. That'd be great if Tonks especially could teach me."

"I feel a bit foolish saying this, but just because Tonks is rather attractive, that should not be the only basis on why you want to learn from her."

Harry blushed, and noticed that Remus was wearing a bit of an embarrassed grin too. "I know. Even Hestia would be better than _Snape_. Ugh!"

"I must remind you that it's _Professor_ Snape, Harry."

"Hmpf. Anyway, I should … um, ring off, I guess? What did my Dad say when he wanted to end the conversation?"

Remus chuckled. "Well, more often than not he was avoiding Minerva's or Filch's eagle eye when he served a detention and would say, 'Quickly, Padfoot, I've got to go!' At least, that's what he and Sirius swore they said. I think I'll just say 'good-bye', and leave it that undramatic ending."

Smiling, Harry said, "All right, then. Good-bye to you as well, and we'll talk later, I guess?"

"Farewell. End conversation."

At that moment, the mirror went back to reflecting Harry's face, and with a lighter heart than he'd had in some time, he placed the mirror on the desk, and picked up the Occlumency text.

He found that his continuation of the Occlumency text was not as boring as it had felt the other day.

* * *

Author Notes:

The message parchment and phoenix pendant concept are partially inspired by Wishweaver's Realizations. I have modified the messenger-parchment concept substantially however, and the function of the portkey has been changed to be more of a safety device that operates under more extreme conditions.

Since the 1970s, when BBSes were just starting to become popular among the computer geek crowd, owing to the existence of (at the time, considered to be fairly fast) 110 and 300 baud modems, as well as the Unix 'talk' function on ARPAnet-connected computers (or even on mainframes at universities where multiple people could be connected to the same computer via dumb terminals), there have been ways for people to communicate in real-time, without an intermediary such as a telegraph agent.

Thanks go to **Oh My Kai** for the beta reading. This is also the first chapter in which the changes begin to emerge from the old version as more than just cosmetic changes. :)


	9. Laying the Foundation

**A Knut to Start the Revolution**  
Chapter 9

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to J. K. Rowling.

* * *

Harry read over the letter he got from Amelia Bones.

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_First of all, your suggestion that I contact Albus Dumbledore to initiate removal proceedings is a bit presumptuous, but for all that I wish to inform you that there is indeed a minor spate of rumblings in the Ministry and the Wizengamot regarding the question of whether Cornelius Fudge ought to be replaced as Minister for Magic. I realise you have your personal issues with him, but you should be aware that it is not your place to summarily imply that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement should drop all its other duties and initiate Wizengamot proceedings. I would have to spend several hours chairing the proceedings and arrange for adequate security._

Harry winced and realised he could have phrased his earlier letter a bit more like an inquiry and less like a command.

_Second, as to the Potter seat. Apparently you are entitled to a seat on the Wizengamot. Albus Dumbledore, as Chief Warlock, would be able to inform you more fully than I can as to your rights and responsibilities as regards the Potter seat._

_Sincerely,_

_Amelia Bones  
Head, Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

Harry scowled and wondered why Dumbledore hadn't at least prepared him for more 'adult' responsibilities in his fourth year, though in retrospect he supposed it might have been more distracting than useful when trying to succeed at the Tasks in the Triwizard Tournament. And though it hurt to remember the way Dumbledore had distanced himself so much in fifth year, Harry sighed and supposed his tutelage couldn't have occurred then.

It still rankled, though, that people like Draco Malfoy got a leg up in the magical world and he'd been left to basically flounder about, picking up bits and pieces on his own. So much for people believing there was a special bond between him and the Headmaster!

He grabbed up the messenger parchment and scribbled out a new message.

_Headmaster Dumbledore,_

_I have just been informed that there is a strong likelihood that I may have a seat on the Wizengamot. Would you be so kind as to inform me on this subject and, presumably, rectify any __other__ gaps in my knowledge of the adult magical world of which I have not, until now, been informed?_

_Please let me know as soon as possible when we can meet to discuss this matter._

_- Harry._

Harry thought he also ought to look into an exercise program of some kind, if he were going to be serious about being able to fight Death Eaters at an advantage rather than a disadvantage. The majority of them were older, presumably had held desk jobs for the last several years of peace, and only held the advantage because of the old memories their robes and masks brought on, as well as the fact that they probably attacked Muggles more than other wizards.

/\/\/\

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, was currently admiring the packet of chocolate, called a Snickers Bar, when the messenger parchment he had gave off a dulcet _ping_. The last time he'd seen it in action was when the boy had sent him the message asking for training. Amelia Bones had fire-called him previously, alerting him to the likelihood that the Wizengamot would have to self-convene for the purposes of a vote of no confidence in Minister Fudge. She had also pried loose from him the fact that he had been keeping the Potter seat vacant for years. Uncomfortably, he realised this meant Harry might soon want to sit on the Wizengamot.

Dumbledore fully realised that Cornelius Fudge was, on the whole, a liability rather than an asset. Nonetheless, he believed in the maxim, "the devil you know is better than the devil you don't." By not shoving out the Minister for Magic, he was able to keep an eye on Lucius Malfoy and other wealthy purebloods that made a habit of bribery and corruption when it came to getting access to Ministry funds.

He would never be so willing to openly label the man an idiot and a fool, unlike his clear impression from Harry's mind at their last meeting at Hogwarts as to the contempt with which the Boy Who Lived regarded the Minister. But the messenger parchment...

Albus after reading it, he cursed himself for having caused an unavoidable rift between him and the boy. He hadn't missed that crack about him being safe from his uncle and cousin in the last missive, and after consulting with Arabella Figg, he had been forced to admit that he had been willing to overlook Harry being bullied by his cousin, on the grounds that there were larger dangers (although, in retrospect, anyone even attempting to kidnap the Boy Who Lived would have been immediately railroaded into Azkaban at the time).

It was only now that Harry was finding out he was entitled to a lot more than he'd previously thought; again, Dumbledore could only chastise himself for not having introduced all this to Harry years before, so that Harry would be ready to assume his adult duties with the full confidence that Albus would back him up without reservation.

Without much enthusiasm, Albus unwrapped the Snickers Bar and half-heartedly chewed as he pondered how best to reply. After a minute, he decided it would be best to contact Shacklebolt and Tonks (and maybe even Mad-Eye would be willing to handle some of the training, if the Ministry got suspicious about the Aurors' irregular schedule), and prepare the Weasleys for Harry's all-but-inevitable arrival at The Burrow. If Harry would just consent to about three weeks' worth of intense training, the remainder could be handled through the rest of summer, then his sixth and seventh years. Dumbledore hoped against hope that he could stave off Voldemort for just two more years, so that Harry would be fully prepared to take the steps needed to vanquish the snake-faced b—ah, so-and-so.

He decided he also needed to meet with Harry very soon and begin educating the boy on his soon-to-be adult responsibilities.

Albus had never felt all hundred and fifty-odd years of his age so much as he did that day, and wearily wondered, for the first time, if perhaps he was being overoptimistic about living to see even a hundred and sixty.

/\/\/\

At the same time as Dumbledore was considering the training and education of Harry Potter, Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, was issuing a series of orders. He then composed a letter.

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_While we have not had the most cordial interactions in the past, I would like to rectify that with the following:_

_First, reliable eyewitnesses have confirmed that Sirius Black, your godfather, was in fact not the culprit who killed thirteen Muggles and that Peter Pettigrew, the alleged victim, is in fact alive._

Cornelius swallowed his pride, and wrote the next sentence.

_I must humbly apologise to you for refusing to believe you three years ago when you stated that Sirius Black was innocent and that Peter Pettigrew was alive._

It still galled him to have to do this, write to a sixteen-year-old, Boy Who Lived, Chosen One, or whatever. But it might save his political career, so he continued.

_Second, I have terminated the manhunt for Sirius Black and have voided the Order of Merlin, First Class, awarded to Peter Pettigrew. If you request, I can award a posthumous Order of Merlin to Sirius Black instead._

_Yours,  
Cornelius Fudge  
Minister for Magic, United Kingdom_

Sighing, Cornelius called Percy Weasley into his office and said, "See that this gets sent out as quickly as possible."

Percy looked askance at the addressee. Cornelius, irritated, said, "Just get the bloody thing in an envelope and get it sent! What do I pay you for, anyway?"

His Junior Assistant left in a flash, and Cornelius thought longingly of the bottle of whiskey he kept in his desk.

/\/\/\

The day after, Albus Dumbledore met with Harry Potter. He had arrived the 'normal' way, or at least to the extent that his arrival was normal for the Dursleys.

Harry's first indication that the knock at the door portended something unusual was when Uncle Vernon bellowed, "Boy! It's that—that _Headmaster_ of yours! Get down here!"

Harry bounced to his feet, made sure his clothes were passably normal, and rushed to the top of the stairs to be greeted with a bizarrely normal scene.

Headmaster Dumbledore was present in a purple suit of uncertain vintage, but which looked vaguely old-fashioned. He stood serenely contemplating the front entryway as Uncle Vernon matched that suit's particular shade in his beady-eyed righteous indignation. Aunt Petunia nervously flicked her eyes to the door and the windows, though the door was closed and the drapes pulled to. Dudley was eyeing the Headmaster with trepidation.

Dumbledore noticed Harry and he smiled slightly. "Harry, I am pleased to see that you appear to be well. I have come to discuss some things with your relatives, and presume you wish to be present."

Uncle Vernon growled, "You will, will you? I tell you, I'll have no such thing!"

Dumbledore turned a steely gaze onto Uncle Vernon. He said, "We can either discuss this calmly, or we can discuss this with considerable inconvenience to you, your wife and your son. I would strongly suggest you bring your wife and son into the living room now."

Harry, unsure as to what was going to happen, waited until Uncle Vernon was well into the living room with Aunt Petunia and Dudley following, and Dumbledore bringing up the rear. After that, he guardedly descended the stairway and found a seat furthest away from his relatives, who had collectively decided to sit on the couch with a good deal of ill grace.

Dumbledore turned his head towards the telly, which had been left on. He flicked his wand, pointing it at the telly, which obligingly turned off. He said, "I have heard people call that device the 'idiot box', so we will now conduct our business without it lowering our mental faculties."

He regarded Harry for a moment, and then turned back to the Dursleys.

"I will not pretend that you have invited me inside entirely willingly, so I will dispense with the usual formalities. I am disappointed. When I spoke with you, Petunia Dursley, all those years ago, I entreated you to take in Lily's child. I left a letter further explaining things when I left young Harry with you. I expected that you would be able to treat Lily's child as your own. I expected that you could cause Mr Dursley to treat Harry on an equal basis with Dudley.

"You, Vernon and Petunia Dursley, have not done this. In every sense of the word, you have failed. You have failed Harry, most of all. You have failed me. You have failed even your son. The saddest aspect is that you have failed yourselves as decent human beings. I have come here to settle accounts on Harry's behalf."

Dumbledore's voice grew severe. "I will remind you that Harry is well-regarded in our world, and that there are many individuals who might seek to operate outside legal avenues to redress what they would rightly see as Harry's grievances should his situation become generally known. If I find out about any more untoward behaviour towards Harry, I shall inform the people who warned you about your behaviour at the end of Harry's school year. They would be very interested in acting should such information come to light. Am I in any way unclear?"

None of Harry's relatives could bring themselves to say anything. Dumbledore stood and said, "Very well. I shall speak with Harry in private, and then I shall depart. I expect that in a year's time, you will once again give Harry houseroom until he reaches seventeen years of age. At that point, he will no longer require the protections this house provides for him."

Harry rose, and wordlessly left the room with Dumbledore. No further exchanges occurred until they entered Harry's magically-expanded bedroom.

At once, the steely resolve that Dumbledore displayed seemed to leave, and the old Headmaster seemed to deflate. He conjured a chintz armchair with apparent resignation, and seated himself heavily. Harry, uncertain, sat warily at the edge of his bed. "Headmaster?"

Dumbledore regarded him steadily. He sighed and said, "One look at the minds of your relatives was all I needed to know how badly I have failed you. Petunia Dursley, much like Severus Snape, seems to have found old wounds impossible to heal. But I came here on other matters. You have been practicing Occlumency?"

"Yes."

"Good. I should like to briefly test your mental shielding. Hestia Jones has found that she has quite the facility for it and I shall send her over to begin working with you on the subject. I will test you again after she is confident that you have mastered the techniques. Are you ready?"

Harry began raising his shields, and nodded.

"_Legilimens._"

A pressing feeling on his head was the only indication that Dumbledore was employing Legilimency, but after what seemed a few moments Harry's shields began to weaken and he felt memories beginning to come forth.

At that point, Dumbledore broke the connection and said, "Good. It appears that Voldemort's absence from your mind and your study from the books I see in this room have had salutary effects. Now, as to the Potter seat on the Wizengamot."

A little heatedly, Harry said, "Yes. What about it? I'm sick of people like Malfoy waltzing around as though being told everything about the wizarding world was some kind of virtue. He used to always go on about his dad this and his dad that. I tell you, I got deathly _sick _of it. We both know Lucius Malfoy used to have a lot of power in the wizarding world and it's about time I found out if I have any of my own."

"I hope to rectify this with you. First of all, I have held the Potter seat vacant all these years. The reason was that, as you know, Sirius Black was sent to Azkaban without trial. Peter Pettigrew was assumed to be dead, and while not many people knew of Remus Lupin's condition, had it become widely known the Wizengamot could easily have chosen to deny him effective representation by scheduling meetings on the full moon. It was also felt in the Order that perhaps Remus did not fully enjoy James's confidence and I may have allowed that to influence me in choosing to leave the seat empty. I apologise for this."

Harry pursed his lips, considering. "All right, then. So when can I hold the seat?"

Dumbledore consulted his watch and seemed to do a quick mental calculation. He said, "The next non-judicial Wizengamot session, by coincidence, happens to be on July thirty-first. We traditionally meet in the afternoon at Courtroom Ten in the Ministry, in closed session. I believe Fawkes would be willing to transport you there if you wish. I will place your accession to that seat on the agenda; the process should be a formality."

"Okay. What else should I know about Wizengamot seats?"

"A person with full rights and privileges attached to a seat, such as you, has the right to vote at all non-judicial proceedings, and to sit as part of judicial proceedings. Additionally a full member usually ascends by inheritance of the seat, and in turn his or her descendants can inherit the seat. A proxy member, which is how I would have appointed Remus Lupin, does not have the power to inherit or pass on the seat, but otherwise can vote according to his or her conscience absent direction from the owner of the seat. Werewolves are usually legally denied the right to inherit seats on the Wizengamot, but considerable latitude is granted as far as the right of appointment of proxy members. You will be able to make a profound political statement by a wise choice of proxy."

Harry paused and considered for a while. He then remembered something else and said, "Um, by the way, Professor Lupin said something about a problem with Headquarters; haven't the Ministry sorted that out yet?"

Almost as though that were a signal, a dignified-looking Ministry owl swooped into Harry's room and deposited an envelope. Dumbledore seemed to recognise the handwriting, for he appeared to be bracing for something.

Puzzled, Harry ripped open the envelope and read the letter inside. _Oh, _he thought. _Dumbledore must have thought I'd explode after reading what that oaf Fudge has to say._

He looked up at the Headmaster, handed over the letter, and said, "Well, I guess that answers my question."

Dumbledore, after perusing the letter, said, "I shall schedule a special session of the Wizengamot. We shall void the sentence of life in Azkaban and expunge Sirius Black's criminal record."

Harry, downcast, mumbled, "Why couldn't it have been earlier? Why couldn't he have just—" He breathed, willing his voice to stay steady. "Why couldn't Fudge have just _believed_ me?"

Harry, blinking rapidly, noticed Dumbledore's gentle smile. The Headmaster said, "Harry, I wish that I could have done more for you; it is entirely my fault for not pressing Cornelius on this matter as a _quid pro quo_ for allowing the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts. It is a poor defence, Harry, but I had thought there would be plenty of time yet to exonerate Sirius."

In an obvious effort to change the subject, Dumbledore said, "I will also move swiftly to have Sirius Black's will located and read. While it is highly likely that you will inherit Headquarters, I would like to caution you that magical inheritances can sometimes run in unanticipated directions. I shall notify you as soon as possible regarding the Wizengamot outcome and the will reading."

Harry nodded. "Thanks."

"In yet another change of subject, Harry, Aurors Tonks and Shacklebolt are canvassing locations suitable to set up a training studio for you should you wish to undertake an intensive program prior to re-entering Hogwarts for your sixth year. I expect it to take three to four weeks, so you have some flexibility as to your timing. When would you like to do this?"

Harry considered. "I think I'd like to wait until after my birthday if that's all right. I want to get my Occlumency perfected as quickly as I can, and do those other things before I start training."

Dumbledore smiled and for the first time in a while, his eyes seemed to take on the familiar twinkle of times past. "Excellent. I shall begin making arrangements, Harry. Please inform me directly if your relatives should give you any more trouble. I am sorry for not heeding your complaints about the Dursleys before now."

Harry, sensing the end of the conversation, stood up. Dumbledore did the same and vanished his chair. He said, "I shall avoid your relatives, I think, and depart the premises from here." He looked up at the ceiling and said, "Fawkes?"

The phoenix flashed into existence and settled on Dumbledore's shoulder. Harry smiled and gently petted Fawkes's feathers for a bit before stepping back. He said, "Good-bye, Headmaster."

"Good-bye, Harry."

With that, Dumbledore flashed away.

* * *

Author Notes:

Thanks go to **Keir** for the beta reading. :) Thanks also to you all for putting up with my irregular update schedule. :)


	10. Manoeuverings

**A Knut to Start the Revolution**  
Chapter 10

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to J. K. Rowling.

* * *

"Thirty-four— Thirty-five—" Harry gasped. "Thirty-six— Ihatedoingsitups— Thirty-seven—"

A few minutes later, with a final wheeze, Harry gasped out, "_Fifty!_"

He sprawled on the floor, gasped, then relaxed as he let his breathing slow down.

Harry Potter was in the middle of an exercise routine he'd worked out for himself. After he got the notion to start a physical fitness regime of some kind, he'd decided to do situps and pushups every day as he could stay inside his room and not have his relatives annoying him. He'd started out with twenty situps and twenty push-ups and worked his way up. It wasn't fun, but it was a better way to kill time than lying about on his bed, or stuffing his brain so full of book knowledge that he'd out-Hermione Hermione.

Nymphadora Tonks had written to him on the messenger parchment, saying she'd be over later that day for some defence work; he made a note to ask if it would be all right if she'd run around the neighbourhood with him. He wanted to build up his endurance in the event that he needed to escape from Death Eaters for any reason.

Harry started to feel relaxed enough that he forgot to clear his mind and fell asleep on the floor of his bedroom at Privet Drive.

/\/\/\

_He was in the Room of Requirement with Hermione, and somehow, Hermione had turned into a _girl_. His eyes moved of their own accord to her… assets; hurriedly, he snapped his eyes back up to her face, which showed her amusement._

_Blushing, he mumbled, "Sorry, Hermione."_

_Without a word, she launched herself at the Harry, the way she usually did after the separation of summertime, but on this occasion she kissed him, thoroughly and soundly. Before he could process further, clothes were flying everywhere and the Room had provided a bed for the two of them to lie on._

_Harry __moved his hand to Hermione's chest area…_

/\/\/\

He woke with a start, breathing hard as his body shook from the wet dream. He registered that his pants felt somewhat sticky, and let his head fall back against the floorboards with a _thunk_. In that respect, Harry Potter wasn't much different from any other teenage male who wanked at least once a day and occasionally had sexually-charged dreams about the opposite or same gender, depending on preference.

However, noticing that Hermione was actually a _girl_ girl and not just a _friend_ girl was… unsettling. He also realised that he had forgotten to go through his Occlumency exercises when he had felt tired, and his heart raced as he realised it could have been a lot worse than his own mind teasing him about one of his best friends.

Harry grabbed his wand and cleaned himself, vanishing the traces of his wet dream. He felt a lot more comfortable as he sat at his desk and activated the messenger parchment. Tonks had sent confirmation that she'd be visiting later that day just after lunch.

He quickly dashed off a message to Dumbledore to inquire as to whether Sirius Black had a will, and if it could be read and handled even though the Ministry had said nothing about his status after Fudge had admitted that 'Lord Thingy' had come back.

This reminded him to telephone Hermione again. Aunt Petunia was in the back garden gossiping with one of the neighbours and, thankfully, Uncle Vernon was off with a client from South America. He had boasted about the possibility for a contract for drills at dinner the previous night.

He used the telephone in the kitchen to ring Hermione. After the initial greetings, he told her, "Hermione, I've decided to assume my Wizengamot seat on my birthday. Regardless of whether or not I can get the Black seat, could you come with me? I'll invite Ron as well. I'd like to see him before the summer's over, because I've decided to do some special training Dumbledore offered."

"_I can meet you… where? The Leaky Cauldron?"_

"I'm going directly to the Ministry, so no. I'm hoping Dumbledore and Fawkes can get me there straightaway."

"_Oh my! I didn't know phoenixes could transport people instantly like that. I'm sorry I won't get to see much of you this summer; I also wish you didn't have to do all that extra training, Harry."_

"I don't have a choice, Hermione. Death Eaters aren't stupid. Even though we fought them well, it was a losing battle. We didn't know enough, and we weren't coordinated enough. We'd have been overpowered sooner or later, except Dumbledore showed up."

Harry heard a sigh over the receiver. _"Well, at the very least I insist you show me everything you've learned, as we'll need it next year! Can you find out if Ron and I can get some extra training too?"_

"I'll look into it, Hermione. I've got to go now, though. I'll let you know once I find out when we're supposed to go to the Wizengamot."

They said their goodbyes and Harry rang off, just as the knock on the door alerted him to Tonks's presence. Harry grinned at the thought of getting a crash course in some Auror-level spellwork.

He wasn't disappointed, although it was a strenuous affair trying to keep his bedroom from getting trashed to pieces as he and Tonks danced around the room, duelling with hexes and jinxes just strong enough to leave small marks in the paint. Luckily, Tonks and Harry were both good at repair charms, and had silenced the room so nobody would hear their crashing and banging about.

Afterwards, Tonks agreed to accompany him on a run around the neighbourhood to condition his legs.

It had been an enjoyable afternoon indeed. Harry rounded it out with a quick letter to Ron, spelled so only Ron could open it. It simply said that he wanted to meet with Ron and Hermione before he got a chance to go the Burrow, and mentioned Sirius's will.

Harry decided to save the announcement about the Wizengamot for later, since the letter to Madam Bones had been risky enough. He doubted most Death Eaters knew what a telephone was and reckoned the wards on Privet Drive were strong enough to keep out nosy eavesdroppers (unless a Death Eater had an eye like Mad-Eye), but even so, Harry was wary of Ron's tendency to react without thinking if provoked. Uncomfortably, Harry realised he was acting a bit like Dumbledore had been doing – withholding information, allegedly for "his own good".

He decided to resolve his guilt by making a mental note to ask Hermione if there was a way to encapsulate thoughts in a thing like the Fidelius Charm so that only a Secret Keeper could choose to expose them.

/\/\/\

The next day, Dumbledore's missive arrived on the messenger parchment.

_Dear __Harry,_

_The will of Sirius Black has been located. It was updated some time before he died, and held at Gringotts until his conviction could be reversed, which I have accomplished at a minimum quo__rate session of the Wizengamot._

_In sum, the manhunt for Sirius Black has been ended, outstanding charges against him regarding escaping from Azkaban have been dismissed, restitution has been granted along with the cancellation of his sentence in Azkaban, and__ the Order of Merlin granted to Peter Pettigrew has been voided. You are already aware of some of this, as I recall._

_You should also know that the Decree for Justifiable Confiscation may apply to certain artefacts in Headquarters, but as the Ministry cannot effect entry, I do not believe this will pose a problem. _

_The will reading was requested by Sirius to occur at Gringotts rather than through the Ministry. This, in point of fact, is legal upon payment of the appropriate fees and charges levied by Gringotts, a lawyer drafting the will, and the Ministry._

_Yours,  
Albus Dumbledore._

Harry stared at the letter, and quietly consoled himself by realising that it was finally true that Sirius had been cleared of the crimes he was thought to have committed. Without much enthusiasm, Harry decided to write to Dumbledore and work out the timing of events. He cleared the messenger parchment, and began.

_Headmaster?_

**Ah, Harry. I was fortunate enough to be at my desk when you wrote and signalled. What can I do for you?**

_When can we get the will read__?_

**We can schedule it at your convenience****. Fawkes has just informed me that he would be happy to transport you if you wish.**

_Thank you very much. Could I ask Fawkes to bring me to __the will reading before the Wizengamot proceedings, at about ten in the morning? I'm not sure how long a will-reading takes._

**That should be more than enough time, my boy. Fawkes has been informed, and has enthusiastically warbled in reply. I confess to being a bit perplexed at his connection to you, as all literature regarding phoenixes has indicated they tend to bond with one human primarily. But that is all to the good. I shall see you – and if I should forget before then, happy birthday.**

_Thanks, Hea__dmaster. I'll see you then. Oh, and so far, no visions. Occlumency seems to be working._

**I can accompany you ****at the will-reading if you wish. I am also glad that you are spared those visions from Voldemort. Would you like your friends to accompany you as well? Miss Granger is, no doubt, conversant with Muggle transport to the Leaky Cauldron, and Mr Weasley can easily floo to Diagon Alley.**

_Yes. __I'll let them both know about the will-reading._

**If you like, I can send them both letters via Order guards**** to save you the trouble. Gringotts are the nominal executors of the will, but I met little resistance in taking on the task of notifying beneficiaries, as it saves them assigning a goblin to the task, and dealing with the rudeness that all too often characterizes Human-Goblin relations.**

_That would be great. __I'd like it if Remus Lupin were there in any case, as he's to become my magical guardian._

**Yes, I shall ensure Remus will be available as well. I did not wish to do this so soon, but I am afraid I must end this conversation as Professor Snape has just signalled his return to Hogwarts. Feel free to send a message any time, however.**

_Of course, Headmaster, I'll see you on the thirty-first._

Harry massaged his hand after that, realising he could have activated the Dictating Quill instead of just scribbling away like mad on the parchment.

/\/\/\

Amusingly, Cornelius Fudge tried to curry more favour with Harry by sending a document on what appeared to be very expensive parchment:

_22 July 1996_

_The Ministry of Magic hereby waives the Decree for Justifiable Confiscation for the will of Sirius Black, registered with us via Gringotts Bank. Therefore, the usual thirty-one day holding period will not apply to any artefacts transferred to beneficiaries in that specific will._

_(Signed) Cornelius Fudge  
Minister for Magic_

A handwritten post-script on a separate page read briefly, "Dear Mr Potter, I trust that this will aid in expediting more cordial relations between yourself and the Ministry."

_God, what an incredible suck-up_, groused Harry.

Dumbledore had written not long after, confirming the date and time Harry would go to Gringotts. Now he just had to keep up his usual routine of conditioning and self-education in battle spellwork, and wait for the inevitable day.

/\/\/\

Meanwhile, Cornelius Fudge was meeting with Decimus Greengrass, and hoped that the man would be the entering wedge to gain the support of about fourteen members of the Wizengamot. If there was to be an election of a new Minister for Magic, all he needed was just enough votes to edge out the next candidate, and he suspected that Arthur Weasley and Amos Diggory, at the least, would run. Amelia Bones was a possibility as well, so if the vote split unequally (say, with a few creatively planted abstentions), he would remain in office. And if _five_ candidates ran, fourteen votes would ensure that the rest did not split out properly.

The urbane man opposite him wore a tasteful chocolate-brown robe, had immaculate hair, well-manicured fingernails and in every other way radiated the kind of poshness that Fudge had come to expect from purebloods. A traitorous voice in the back of his head told him that even with the pinstriped suit and robe he was wearing that day, Decimus still managed to out-dress him in terms of how well the outfit wore.

Fudge began by saying, "Welcome to my office. Let me just activate the privacy wards, here."

A few incantations later, they began.

Decimus added, "Cornelius, let's be frank. You're a political liability, and while my tenure on the Wizengamot is unaffected by whether you go or stay, being associated with you these days would not be very helpful for my business contacts."

Heatedly, Fudge retorted, "Well, I'm sure you're well aware that I have considerable discretion over the disbursement of funds from the Ministry. I'm sure you wouldn't mind a little support for your business. Perhaps some friends of yours on the Wizengamot wouldn't mind it either, would they?"

Greengrass seemed to ponder that, and replied, "Well, I could possibly see my way to assisting you in this matter. I'm sure that as a show of good faith the Ministry wouldn't mind awarding contracts for procurement of… say, several bundles of fwooper feathers and the like."

"Fine. Now can I count on your support when it comes time for the next election? You and I both know I probably won't survive the vote of no confidence, but all it takes for me to run to get back my old office is a nomination from one of the members of the Wizengamot if I'm not on it. Rather handy loophole, that."

"Done. Just make good on the contracts."

The two men warily shook hands, and Cornelius Fudge tried to decide how to hide a good chunk of the Ministry budget disappearing into the hands of individuals who didn't actually need the money. Calling it _bribery_ was just so uncouth…

He preferred to think of it as a strategic manoeuvre.

* * *

Author Notes:

Thanks go to **Keir** for the beta work. I particularly want to acknowledge her efforts on this chapter amid a busy schedule of her own.


	11. Preparing the Spanner in the Works

**A Knut to Start the Revolution**  
Chapter 11

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to J. K. Rowling.

* * *

Harry Potter had nicked Dudley's mobile phone since the plonker had gone out the previous day and stayed overnight at a friend's house. Dudley had apparently forgotten that his phone was on the bookshelf (the layer of dust on the few books that populated the shelves should have given Aunt Petunia fits, but she only cleaned the carpet, brought the laundry downstairs and made the bed. She apparently missed the fact that her son's inclination to enriching his mind was on a level below that of Crabbe or Goyle).

Considering that Dudley wouldn't be back until suppertime, if that, Harry saw no reason to spare Dudley's wallet the mobile charges. Aunt Petunia had mentioned Dudley being out with friends in passing to Uncle Vernon, as the man was heading out for a suspiciously well-timed weekend golf game with a potential large customer of Grunnings. It seemed the South Americans wanted drills as they were getting into a home construction boom, particularly in Argentina. The fact that the golf course had a very well-appointed pub was a mere coincidence, at least that was the way Uncle Vernon put it when Aunt Petunia sharply asked as to whether she would be having to get one of the neighbours to drive her out to pick him up.

After fiddling with the mobile and wondering how one actually got an outgoing call on it, Harry was startled by a sudden cacophony of sounds that bleeped, blooped, and in general sounded like a discordant digital attempt at a telephone ringing. Without stopping to realise what might happen if he answered the call, Harry was pressing all the buttons, including the 'Yes' button, and heard a tinny bellow in the speaker.

"_Big D, where the sodding hell are you? Your mate Polkiss fucked off and didn't tell us whether you'd be over for that big party he's having since his folks have gone off to Essex somewhere!_"

Harry, at first petrified, thought swiftly and grunted, "Uhhhhhh."

"_Oh, fucking hell. You went and got completely pissed and now you've got a bloody hangover. Bugger all! I'll ring you back later._"

Harry hesitantly pressed the 'No' button, hoping that since its pictorial representation was of a telephone handset with a slash through it, that it would disconnect the caller. Sure enough, the liquid-crystal display went blank and the backlighting went off. Harry noticed that the mobile read 'ERICSSON' near the top, and near the bottom it said 'GH388'.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry decided to move rationally through how to place a call. He first pressed all the digits that made up Hermione's number, and was confused when he held the telephone to his ear and heard nothing. Deciding maybe he had to hit another button, he tried the 'Yes' button, again.

Sure enough, the sounds of a telephone ringing could be heard, and Harry was soon talking to Hermione again.

"Hullo, Hermione, Sorry to be calling you like this so often."

"Oh, Harry, don't worry about that! I've just been spending most of my time revising for sixth year. Since I found out that Flourish and Blotts can owl your books over, I decided to have them owl me my books, since I already know what subjects I plan to take. They said they could charge my Gringotts vault – I put money in it when I don't need to change my Galleons back to pounds. And anyway, we've got a small swimming pool here, so I can sit by it and read; it's a good way to relax while I let the potions work."

Harry was alarmed, and upset at himself for not asking after her health when she'd visited him. "Potions? If I'd known you were still recovering—"

"I'm able to move around, Harry. It's just to make sure that I'm completely healed and all that. Relax. Honestly!"

He mumbled guiltily. "Well, it's just that I didn't even ask you when you came over, and—"

"Did we not go over this once before? We all agreed to go with you; now what did you call me for, because it certainly couldn't have been to rehash things we should leave in the past."

"Well…anyway, I'm calling on Dudley's mobile here because Aunt Petunia's downstairs and the only other telephone's in Dudley's room and I can't take it into mine. Anyway, I got this weird messenger parchment thing from Dumbledore and he says it was inspired by Muggle computer communications going back to the 1970s. Do you know anything about that?"

Hermione gushed, "Oh, my, yes! My Dad has a computer with a modem in it, and I used to dial BBSes when I was younger, but it lost its allure after I found out the majority of people who used them were boys with a rather stunted view of the world. But anyway, I dialled a few multiline BBSes back then, and you could communicate with up to ten other people all at once through the computer. Quite fascinating, really, at the time. Nowadays we just use it for occasional dialling up for Internet access."

Harry, not wanting to admit he was bowled over by half the terms Hermione was using, replied, "…Er, all right."

Before either person could continue, a familiar-looking owl from the Ministry sailed up to the window, perched on the sill and rather self-importantly pecked at it. Harry frantically wrenched the window open before the bird got the attention of too many other people in the area while blurting, "Hold on, Hermione!"

Said owl landed on the windowsill and stuck the letter out at Harry, who chucked the mobile onto his bed, then took the letter. The owl then ruffled its feathers and zoomed back into the open air.

Fumbling the letter open, the boy began reading. After a few lines, his heart raced as he realised its import. He grabbed up the mobile and said, "Hermione! Are you there?"

"Yes, what is it, Harry? Are you all right? Is there a—"

"No, no problem, Hermione. Just a letter came from the Wizengamot. It's just a notification to me that I need to attend the session coming up on the thirty-first of July. There's some stuff in here about proxies, and I'd like to talk to you about my seat on the Wizengamot anyway."

Hermione paused, then said, "Are you eligible for any seats besides your father's? Maybe Sirius Black's? They were an ancient enough family, after all."

Harry looked again at the parchment and said, "It just says the Potter seat is available and there's no age restriction on when I can assume the seat if I'm deemed mentally competent." He snorted. "Wonder how they've have taken it last year."

"I think you should definitely assume the Potter seat right away. Can you assume Sirius's seat? Or, well, the seat he would have got if he'd been cleared of all crimes."

Harry shrugged, then realised Hermione couldn't see the gesture. "I guess I won't know until Gringotts get a letter to me saying when they want to, y'know, give everything to the proper people and all that when the will gets read. But I have an idea about that second seat that'll just give everybody _fits_, if I'm eligible for it."

Guardedly, she said, "Yes, and?"

"Do _you_ want the seat as my proxy?"

For the second time that summer, the Boy Who Lived managed to render Hermione Granger speechless. He laughed and added, "Well, say something! I mean, can you imagine the look on Malfoy's face when he realises your appointment to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black's seat elevates you to his equal, legally? Anyway, just say you want the seat!"

Hermione was truthfully torn between disbelief and giddiness at the thought of putting paid to all the pureblood supremacists who delighted in looking down on her and her kind, the Muggleborns. She summoned up all her bravery and committed herself (which was why the Hat had put her in Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw), saying "_Yes!_ I'll do it, Harry."

"Okay. We'll wait until we find out more about the other seat but I'll take mine for sure, and as soon as Gringotts get hold of me, we'll see about the Black seat. Sirius would have been tickled pink at the idea, wouldn't he?"

"I'm sure he would, Harry. I'd better ring off, though. Those mobile telephones cost a bit of money and even if it's your cousin's you're using you don't want to make it too obvious you're using it."

"Shite, you're right. I'd rather not get Uncle Vernon all purple-y. It looks quite unattractive, I'll tell you that."

She giggled, then said, "Goodbye, Harry."

"'Bye. See you later."

He pressed the 'No' button, and then returned the mobile to Dudley's bookshelf. He smirked to himself as he decided to read some more about battle-spell casting; it seemed that the Soviets, like their Muggle counterparts, specialised in overwhelming their opponents by dint of sheer numbers. So their Arithmancers had come up with spells that were short and easy to cast repeatedly. This, he thought, could be useful in a fast-paced fight or duel, and it seemed not many people in Great Britain bothered with Russian-language spells.

* * *

Author Notes: This is essentially unexpurgated from the old version of the fic and as such is unbetaed. I will try to update this more regularly and would appreciate a beta-reader for this. Cheers! :)


	12. 31 July 1996

**A Knut to Start the Revolution**  
Chapter 12

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to J. K. Rowling.

* * *

All too soon, it was July 31, 1996, and Harry James Potter, with Fawkes on his shoulder, flashed to the entry doors of Gringotts. The goblin and wizard guards were startled, but upon seeing the phoenix on Harry's shoulder, they relaxed. As Fawkes flashed away again, one of the surly guards strode up to Harry and said, "If it's banking business, you'll have to go to the queue over there. If it's anything else, we'll let you straight in. But first, the Probity Probe. Stand still, or you may not like where we put it!"

Harry didn't move a muscle as the Auror waved the rather nasty-looking Probity Probe all over him. It vaguely resembled a policeman's club, which he'd seen on the telly when Dudley had watched some silly cops-and-robbers show.

The Auror stepped back, satisfied, and one of the goblin guards said, "Well? Your business?"

Startled, Harry fumbled out his reply as he proffered the official notification he'd received from Gringotts. "Oh, er.. here. I have a letter saying I'm to attend a will-reading at ten in the morning."

The goblin muttered something in Gobbledygook, and the letter from Ragnok flashed a golden colour. Satisfied, the goblin waved Harry on to the last wicket at the far end of the hall.

Harry got some scowls from the impatient people in the queue. Harry couldn't help but snicker to himself as he noted that only one wicket out of at least twenty was occupied by a goblin for banking business, and the remainder, counting gold and weighing rubies, were pointedly ignoring the wizards and witches. The wicket at the far end had a small sign hovering over it, reading 'Other Business'.

The wizarding economy was taking a hit, it seemed, and from what little Harry remembered of Muggle history, some banks in the United States in the nineteen-thirties had tried a similar trick to keep people from withdrawing all their money in one go, by making withdrawals take forever to get accomplished. Of course, they hadn't had a megalomaniac after their money at the time, so presumably those banks hadn't need security guards armed to the teeth to keep out said megalomaniacs and attached minions.

Harry thought the goblin looked a bit familiar, but said nothing as he presented the letter again. The goblin at the wicket did the same thing as the guard goblin, making the parchment flash gold. He then left his wicket, disappearing through a door. Harry supposed it was where Gringotts kept records and correspondence. The goblin returned and said, "Mr Potter, other beneficiaries have been sent letters indicating that a will is being read on this date, according to our internal records. For a small fee, I would be able to provide you with a list of all those who are permitted to attend and, shall we say, offer you some flexibility as to who can attend with you."

Harry wondered if goblins ever gave Muggle bankers lessons on shaking their customers down for extra money, but acquiesced, saying, "All right. How much?"

"Fifty Galleons. Vault key?"

Harry wordlessly handed it over. The goblin filled out the necessary paperwork, then handed Harry his key back with a parchment charmed to list all the people coming. He screwed up his nose in distaste at seeing Draco and Narcissa Malfoy on the list of attendees.

He looked at the goblin again, and in a flash of memory, Harry realised who he was talking to. "Hey, aren't you Griphook?"

The goblin, momentarily surprised, looked at Harry, raising a gnarled eyebrow. "Yes, I am. I do not always drive carts. I also recall you from several years ago. But time is money, and we are wasting it. Follow me to the room we have set up."

In the well-appointed room, Harry sat at the oak table as Griphook left, and looked around. There were about twenty chairs, with an object Harry recognised as a Pensieve in the middle.

Uneasily, Harry took his attention away from the Pensieve, and looked at the rest of the room. The walls were in a soothing beige colour, and the chandelier at the ceiling glittered. Harry wondered if perhaps those were _real_ diamonds in the chandelier. The room exuded wealth and security, and for the first time, Harry wondered at just how strongly Voldemort wanted the goblins on his side.

His mechanical watch registered five minutes after ten, and the others trickled in. Griphook escorted Dumbledore, Lupin, Ron and Hermione as well as Mrs Weasley. Griphook said, "Mister Potter, two more beneficiaries state they wish to attend the will reading. Their names are Nymphadora and Andromeda Tonks. Also, the lady Weasley has asked to allow two more people, Fred and George, into Gringotts for this reading."

Surprised, Harry blurted, "Sure. Let them in."

Griphook snapped his fingers in the hallway, and not long after Fred and George entered.

Grinning, they looked at Harry and Fred said, "Thank goodness!"

George followed up with, "Indeed! If you hadn't vouched for us I shudder to think of where they might have put the Probity Probe."

"Well said, brother mine. Why, they might have put it up—"

Molly Weasley took that moment to intervene. "FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY! You two come and sit down, right now! That kind of language is not fit for children's ears!"

Even after having moved out of the Burrow, the twins were still not ones to directly cross their mother's strident instructions, and hastily sat down at the table, across from Ron and Hermione. Harry had sat at the narrow end, with Ron and Hermione to his right and the twins to his left. Remus moved a chair next to him and sat nearby. He whispered, "The Ministry sent me the approvals. I'm your official guardian now."

The Tonkses arrived as Remus finished.

Harry grinned and said, "Thanks. I'm sorry I didn't ask you about it before now. I've been busy training with Tonks when I'm not exercising."

"I've heard. Albus had me watching the Burrow as well as the Granger house. We take your friendships seriously, you know."

Harry, noticing the omission, said, "Actually, why aren't any of you watching Grimmauld Place?"

Remus winced and said, "We had to move out after the Ministry officially recognised that Sirius died. Until then, we could keep meeting there as his status was indeterminate. We weren't sure in which direction ownership would change after Albus told us the Ministry had changed their mind on the matter, and it wouldn't do for the Malfoys to catch us unawares."

Harry nodded, and resolved to deal with Draco and Narcissa Malfoy sooner or later. There was another score he had to settle.

Griphook broke in again, saying, "We have just had two more people arrive, claiming will business. Draco and Narcissa Malfoy, Mister Potter."

Harry snarled, "Absolutely not! I don't care if they're named in the will, they're not coming in here. They can have their own will reading separately."

Griphook nodded, and snapped his fingers twice outside in the hall. He said, in passing, "I do believe the Probity Probe will be busy today, and they will be late for the reading."

An embarrassed laugh went around the room as Griphook closed the heavy door. He said, "As is policy for Gringotts, anyone who attends a will reading must do so within fifteen minutes of the appointed time. Anyone who arrives afterwards must request a separate reading later. Gringotts, incidentally, levies a fifty Galleon fee per will reading session if a beneficiary requests a separate reading later on."

Harry snickered to himself at the thought of Draco Malfoy's spoiled whining about how he'd had to pay good money for what promised to be next to nothing.

Griphook continued. "The will has been transcribed by Dictating Quill"—he held up a sheaf of parchments—"at the same time as Mr Black made this Pensieve Recording for Gringotts. He owled us the memory and the will. We have determined its authenticity and are satisfied that it was indeed made by Sirius Black on the twentieth of December, 1995."

He aimed his finger at the Pensieve, then aimed his hand up at the lights. They dimmed as Sirius showed up, seated at a chair next to a desk, which was strewn about with papers. Harry couldn't help but let a tear escape his eye, as he realised this might be the last time he would see the man in anything but a wizarding picture.

"_I, Sirius Orion Black, do certify before Gringotts and on my magic that I am of sound mind and body, capable of disbursing my assets, personal possessions, and other hereditary gifts._

"_To Harry James Potter, my principal beneficiary, I leave the bulk of my fortune, the house at you-know-where, the Black seat on the Wizengamot, and everything else I haven't otherwise given to someone else. Use it well, Harry. If I died, I probably died fighting. I always knew it might happen last time Voldemort was around, and it certainly might happen again. The attack on Arthur was what spurred me to make this will in the vain hope that the Ministry might get their collective arse in motion and listen to Dumbledore. If it's too late and the Malfoys got everything, well, at least you know what I would have wanted._

"_To Remus John Lupin, my other principal beneficiary, I'd give you the Wizengamot seat but as it is it'll be a tough row to hoe letting Harry get it when he's not a Black. Get him to nominate you as proxy for either the Black or the Potter seat, and we'll put one over on those bigoted bastards, eh?"_

A quick laugh went around the table, and Harry got an idea in his head.

"_As for what else you get – Moony, old friend…"_

Here, the Weasley twins sharply breathed in, realising just _who_ the Marauders had been.

"_Get some decent clothes. I've left you enough money that you could probably spend a hundred Galleons a day or more and still have enough to give to someone else if you live to a hundred years of age. Meantime, go get some new clothes. Heaven only knows I've given you enough of mine already. Oh, and Harry should have the deeds to several properties. There's got to be one you could use that's a step up from that cottage you have in the middle of nowhere."_

Remus nervously laughed, and Harry could see he was having trouble keeping his composure as Sirius's light banter wove through the solemn reading of the will.

"_To Hermione Jean Granger, care of Albus Dumbledore, I leave the books of the Black Library at you-know-where, provided that Albus inventories them first and takes care of any that are too dangerous. Some really should be destroyed – I just never had the heart to go through and do a cull. In addition, your vault has been added to, as I'm sure you'll never run out of books to buy. It's a poor recompense for being Harry's friend, but it's all I can do._

"_To the Weasley family, notably Ronald Bilius Weasley, I want to thank you all for taking in Harry when I couldn't, and giving him a place he can remember with fondness. It's a poor compensation to make, but I have set aside a fund for you to upgrade the Burrow in any way you see fit – or hell, go on a vacation after the war. But my strong suggestion would be to get some good wards on there, especially if you-know-where becomes the focal point of the war to come._

"_For the twins, you should have enough to open a store on Diagon Alley. If you already did, go open one in Hogsmeade. Harry told me he said the wizarding world could use a few laughs, and I happen to agree. Finally, for Ron and Ginny, your Hogwarts fees have been paid up and you both have enough money transferred to vaults of your own so you have a cushion in bad times._

"_Now for the fun part. For Nymphadora and Andromeda Tonks, you get some money too. Finally, my last act as the Head of the Black Family (marvellous trick that, considering my dear old bat of a mother disowned me in the first place __– luckily grandfather Arcturus was senile enough to reinstate me for reasons known only to him)__, innocent of any crime, is to reinstate you into the Black family, which should take effect if I have been exonerated. From this day on, you have control over that foul little elf, Kreacher, if Harry doesn't want anything to do with him. My suggestion would be a very good Memory Charm and clothes. Then he can go kiss up to the Malfoys. Unfortunately, Andromeda, even I can't assign headship of the family to you. The closest male relative that magically qualifies is my godson, Harry. He inherited it when I named him the principal beneficiary._

"_Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy are hereby disowned from the Black Family and shall no longer retain any privileges emanating from having had the Black name. Draco Malfoy is similarly disowned with a parting gift of exactly one Galleon. Don't spend it all in one place, you snivelling brat."_

Harry couldn't help himself, and laughed at his imagination of the look on Draco's face when he would realise he lost forty-nine Galleons for the privilege of hearing that all the Black money went to someone else besides him.

The others also chuckled, and Griphook, having momentarily halted the Pensieve recording, waited patiently for the people at the table to finish amusing themselves at Draco's expense.

"_Some final words. If the goblins have shown this will to Harry on or after his sixteenth birthday, I want to let you, Harry, know of some things regarding pureblood custom which you probably haven't been told before. It's nobody's fault, really – everybody has probably assumed someone else told you._

"_Getting down to business, Harry – fifteen and sixteen year-olds have been appointed to the Wizengamot before if they're heirs of pureblood families and deemed mentally competent. You qualify twice over, as a Black by virtue of being my godson, and a Potter. In addition, access to the family vaults can be conditionally given – you can't take anything out, but you'll be able to go inside them as long as a goblin opens the vault for you. Go into your parents' vault, and go into mine. At least you'll know what you can get from them when you're seventeen, with one exception. If the Potter ring is in the Potter vault the goblins will allow you to take it with you._

"_Additionally, possession of a family ring – the Black ring is useless to me right now as I'm still an escaped convict, so I have sent it to be given to you – specifically designates you as family head, and the power of the Black name is not to be underestimated in the wizarding world. We were once regarded as royalty, but Regulus's death, my conviction, and the actions of Bellatrix and Narcissa have tarnished that name. Andromeda was unable to do much, as she was blasted off the tapestry and disowned. So it falls to you, Andromeda and Nymphadora to restore the Black name._

"_The essential point is, any dealings you have which do not involve the Ministry, if you're wearing that ring, are the dealings of a person considered a full adult. That power can come in handy – especially at Hogwarts, which is not under full control of the Ministry. Or, consider the Wizengamot._

"_All right, to all who are viewing this will, I'm done. The exact allotments of money and so forth will be carried out by the goblins. Don't mourn me forever. I'm on the next great adventure, as Dumbledore loves to say, and no doubt I'm probably annoying Prongs as we speak. We'll wait for that little git Wormtail and _really_ lay into him. Go forth and make me proud, all of you!"_

The Pensieve died, and Harry sat, gobsmacked. He took a few moments to process all that he'd seen, and breathed steadily, willing himself to stay composed.

Griphook cleared his throat, and all in the room turned their eyes to him. He said, "As Mr Black has indicated, your vaults have been created or added to, and I have envelopes that state the monetary transfers along with keys to new vaults for those who do not have their own. Mr Black decided to lay out percentages of his fortune, rather than allocate specific monetary amounts. As such your vaults will have a certain number of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts added to them.

"For non-monetary possessions, the instructions in the will provide for how they are to be handled. Mr Potter, please place the Black ring on your finger. This will signify you as the legitimate heir to the Black seat on the Wizengamot."

Harry reached out for the small wooden box he had been given, as well as an envelope, similar to the envelopes everyone else else got. Ron was admiring the Gringotts key, and Harry felt glad that his friend would never know the sting of poverty again. It still didn't erase the fact that Harry would have given all he had in with Grimmauld Place to boot for just five minutes with his mum, dad, and Sirius.

He sighed, and hesitantly opened the box. Two Gringotts keys were in the felt-lined interior, along with a short letter and the Black ring with the family crest attached to it. Harry looked at Remus questioningly, and the latter answered, "Place it on the ring finger of your wand hand. Sirius never wore it after he moved in, but while on the run he had it on the ring finger of his right hand."

Harry slowly slid the ring down his right ring finger, and jerked, startled, when it abruptly sized itself to his finger, and glowed a bright green. He felt a warmth go over him, then saw a less brilliant shade of green briefly flow over Andromeda and Nymphadora.

Remus said, "That must have been the magic formalising the Black family reinstatement. This must mean Narcissa will know what Sirius has done. I'm not sure if you can keep this a secret from Draco for too much longer – he will have plans. I remember him from your third year, and he was always borderline rude to me because of my clothes. Sirius wasn't lying when he said Draco was a snivelling brat."

Nodding, Harry replied, "I'm going to the Wizengamot today. Everything should be set up so I can get straight into my seat. But I'll be at school most of the time, so I can't come to a lot of the sessions. Does anyone get paid for being on the Wizengamot?"

Remus said, "Harry, I wouldn't ask you to give me the seat just so I could get money—"

"It's not just that, Remus – although I can't think of anyone else who deserves it more. It's a political thing. I want to rub it in their faces that a werewolf has been granted the right to sit on the wizarding world's highest governing body aside from the Ministry. Wouldn't that just be a slap in the face for those bigots?"

Sighing, Remus said, "Well, as I can't dissuade you from this course of action, I'll go with you. Fawkes can flash us all straight there."

Harry closed the box, and shrank it to fit in his pocket. He went to Mrs Weasley and said, "Hullo. I'm happy you're here."

The red-haired woman smiled, and hugged Harry briefly, then brushed his hair out of his face, only to lose that battle. "I wish we were seeing each other under better circumstances. But you look better now than you did last year. Oh, I hope those Muggles haven't been mistreating you this summer, have they? I swear, if it weren't that Albus went in with the best of intentions—"

Harry interposed gently, saying, "Mrs Weasley, let me work that out with him myself, okay? I appreciate you standing up for me and all, but it's… complicated. I can understand why he did what he did, but he's withheld a lot from me. I didn't even _know_ I had a seat on the Wizengamot! Last year that would have helped if I'd been able to hold any sway over the Ministry or something like that."

Molly pursed her lips as she remembered that farce of a trial Harry had undergone, and said, "Well, what's done is done. Once we get the wards done on the Burrow, you can come any time, you understand? Albus or no Albus, our home is always open to you."

Harry, abashed, mumbled, "Thanks. I… I appreciate it, Mrs Weasley."

"Good! When are you coming over?"

Nervously, Harry said, "Um, that's sort of a problem… I'm going to be doing some training for the next three weeks somewhere secret, and I won't be able to come 'till the last week of August. Is that okay?"

Mrs Weasley looked crestfallen as she said, "If it were up to me, Harry, you wouldn't have to do a thing this summer except stay at the Burrow with Ron. This war, oh this damned war…"

Molly looked ready to lose her composure, and luckily, Ron saw what was about to happen, and came over. "Look, Mum, it's what we have to do, all right? Harry's my friend and if I know Harry, he'll help us get rid of You-Know-Who as soon as he can, and we'll all enjoy ourselves afterwards."

Harry smiled, saying, "Thanks, Ron. By the way, I didn't tell you earlier, but I'm going to the Wizengamot today to take my seat. Want to come along?"

"Blimey! Sure thing, mate!"

Harry clapped Ron on the shoulder, and then hugged Mrs Weasley, followed by Ron. She seemed to look better after that, and said, "Ronald, you come back the very instant Harry is done, you hear? Harry, you tell that phoenix to get Ron back as soon as possible! I left Ginny with the Lovegoods, but I can't leave her too long. It's not safe."

"I understand, Mum."

"I understand, Mrs Weasley. Please be safe."

As Molly Weasley left at a brisk walk out of the room, Nymphadora and Andromeda came over to Harry, and briefly gave their condolences. Harry said, "Tonks? I'll see you tomorrow for the training."

"Wotcher, Harry. See you later."

Andromeda said, "Harry, if you need any more advice or information regarding the Black family, please come see me. I can help you."

Harry nodded, and for the first time, noticed that Andromeda had a slight resemblance to Bellatrix and Narcissa. She didn't have the look of wild-eyed obsession or the arrogant sneer, and he could see a bit of Sirius in her, too.

Finally, the twins broke free from Remus, and briefly said their goodbyes. Harry said, "By the way – Fred, George – I have some ideas about things you can develop for the war. Ask Remus about the shrinking potion he used on the Slytherins in his first year."

Chuckling, the twins nodded and left the room, airily saying, "Wheezes never rest!"

Harry looked at his watch and noticed that it was just past eleven in the morning. He looked at Griphook, and said, "Could we have this room for another half hour?"

He nodded, and said, "That phoenix of yours will be able to remove you from this room, should you need the security. Incidentally, I have just gotten the report that Mr Malfoy's reaction to the Probity Probe was quite… amusing."

Harry snickered again, and said, "Thanks a lot, Griphook."

The atmosphere in the room shifted just after the heavy door _clanged_, and Harry looked at the Headmaster with a steely expression, who had the good grace to look a bit embarrassed.

Harry said, icily, "So. Is there anything else I should know about? Anything which, if I didn't know it, could compromise my ability to navigate the political sharkfest known as the Ministry?"

Albus Dumbledore, for the first time that Harry could remember aside from his lack of stolidity at the Ministry when Harry had been possessed, looked worn-out and deflated. He said, "No, Harry. Sirius Black has covered what I should have done. By rights I should have informed you of all this well before now. If it helps, Harry, vacant seats are assumed to vote the same way as the Chief Warlock, if needed to break a tie.

"Remus, I owe you an apology. I should not have allowed James's suspicions about your activity during 1981 to colour my notions as to who would be a good proxy voter for Harry's seat."

Confused, Harry said, "What? What's all this?"

Remus said, "What Albus is referring to is that I had very little money back then, and the Muggle world at that time was undergoing a severe inflationary shock, meaning that prices were going up rapidly – they'd been doing so since the late 1970s. My wages barely kept up, and I had to take some jobs outside of Britain in magical communities in France. Since I didn't want to let anyone know of my comings and goings with Voldemort on the loose, I had to accept that James might be suspicious of my behaviour. At the time, of course, I assumed I could always smooth things over later."

Remus looked quite morose as Hermione looked thoughtful, and Ron a bit confused.

Ron said, "I don't get this bit about inflation."

Hermione didactically said, "In the Muggle world, almost all currencies are printed on paper. This means it is very easy to produce more money, but as a result, it means that prices can go up quite quickly. About twenty years ago, the price of oil, which is what we use a great deal of to burn in our automobiles and electric power plants, went up dramatically, and to compensate, Muggle governments began printing more money, which drove the price of everything else up as well. Since people in the Muggle world get paid for their work like people do in the wizarding world, they had to pay more for everything without getting any extra benefit from it.

"The wizarding world doesn't have that problem to as great a degree because of our small population and because our money is based on gold. The gold basis of our currency doesn't cause other equally annoying problems because our economy is not very advanced, and the exchange rate of the Galleon against the pound can compensate for changes in the value of the pound."

Dumbledore said, "Miss Granger is quite right. In the late 1970s, the Galleon exchanged at a ratio of almost twenty to one, as opposed to five to one today. This was in direct response to the fact that British currency was becoming less valuable relative to ours. But we have digressed."

Remus said, "Yes. I brought in enough Galleons to tide me over handily through 1980 and 1981, and after 1982 inflation began to fall and I was able to work steadily in the Muggle world without having to do questionable work in France."

Harry hesitantly said, "Um… if it's not intruding too much, what did you have to do?"

"I'd rather not explain right now, Harry. Those were not good times, I'm sorry to say."

Harry nodded.

Dumbledore said, "Harry, although this is not a Ministry-related matter you should know there might be an outside chance you have membership in other bodies such as the Defence Against The Dark Arts League."

Harry and Ron snickered, as they remembered Gilderoy Lockhart's strutting about with his membership in it.

Hermione rolled her eyes and said, "Headmaster, meaning no offence at all, but I'm afraid we don't have a high opinion of that organisation, considering who they allowed into it."

"Yes, I am aware that Mr Lockhart claimed membership in that League. It may amuse you to know that I have dropped some suggestions that it be revoked. It seems that Gadding with Ghouls piqued the interest of ghoul-hunters, who found his adventures a bit… implausible."

Harry groaned as he remembered all the times he'd been made to play the part of whatever unfortunate beast or being Lockhart had allegedly defeated.

Dumbledore said, "In the meantime, I wish to assure you, Harry, that if you ask, I shall answer. I may not be able to divulge an answer but I will tell you so, and not simply avoid you."

"That's acceptable. If you'd just _done_ that last year, sir, I'd have understood. Anyway… look, I've been trying Occlumency again, and I'd like you to test and see if I've made any headway."

Harry began bringing his shields up, calming his emotions, preparing for intrusion. Dumbledore brought his wand up and quietly said, "_Legilimens_."

Harry felt a sudden pressing on his skull, an attempt to pull at memories laid within. He was able to hold it off until the attack got stronger, and he found memories beginning to glide forth. Before he was able to shut the gates, he saw the time he'd plucked spiders off himself in the cupboard under the stairs before Aunt Petunia banged on it to make him cook breakfast.

Gasping, Harry said, "How long?"

Hermione said, "That was about two minutes, Harry."

Surprised, Harry rasped, "Two minutes? It felt like thirty seconds!"

Dumbledore, radiating imperturbability, said, "Time is often subjective and particularly so when Occlumency must be employed in response to a direct attack instead of as a passive defence against casual Legilimency. Harry, you have done better than I expected you might with the books Miss Granger obtained for you at the library, as well as with your work with Hestia Jones. Miss Granger, I am amused, however, that Minerva McGonagall saw fit to let you come back to Hogwarts briefly."

Hermione had the good grace to look sheepish as she said, "Well, I engaged in a bit of misdirection, really. I had told Professor McGonagall that I needed books for an extra credit research project for Charms, and she wrote me an open summer pass for the books I was to borrow. Madam Pince was reluctant, but allowed it. She didn't stop me when I signed out loads of books.

"As to how I got to Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall agreed to Apparate me from my bedroom to Hogsmeade, and we walked up to the castle. She went with me back to Hogsmeade later, and we took the Floo back to Diagon Alley and stopped at Flourish and Blotts. It was still so close to end of term that I saw students milling about. Several Ravenclaws were in the Alley; I think Professor Flitwick had given them the option of completing their Charm assignments over the summer, owing to the trouble with Umbridge near the end of term."

Remus said, "That must be why we never heard anything of it. As I recall, Minerva agreed to take the patrol for that day at the Grangers. We were worried because she's still in somewhat precarious health, but she turned on that Scottish irascibility and dared us to forbid her. She has a soft spot for you, Hermione."

Dumbledore nodded, saying, "As I recall, Minerva is adept at the Disillusionment Charm. Did she accompany you on your return home, Miss Granger?"

Hermione replied, "Yes, she took me back by Side-Along Apparition straight into my back yard. What's this about patrols, by the way?"

"Just as Harry's house is being watched by Order members, we also have Order members watching your residence as well as the Burrow."

Ron flushed, saying, "With all that Apparating and phoenix-flashing, why haven't you two come and seen me yet, then? You haven't even _written_, for Merlin's sake!"

Hermione's voice wavered as she said, "I'm sorry, Ron. I thought you were undergoing treatment for those brain attacks and I didn't think to check in with you about it."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I'm sorry, mate. I kind of got wrapped up in studying my Defence and Occlumency and talking to Hermione. Ever since I found out about the Wizengamot seat and petitioning for a magical guardian, I've been tossing around some ideas in my head. I promise I won't forget about you again, all right?"

Guardedly, Ron muttered, "All right, then."

Harry let the tension escape his shoulders as he realised the worst was over, for now. Hermione, however, reminded him of his obligation when she said, "Harry! You need proper clothes and an outfit for your Wizengamot session. Come on, let's go to Madam Malkin's."

Groaning, Harry let himself and the rest of his entourage be dragged (or more accurately, flashed by phoenix) along to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Dumbledore sucked on sherbet lemons and twinkled every now and then in amusement as Harry, like a mannequin, was dressed, poked and prodded as Hermione efficiently marshalled his fashion appearance into something resembling "politically powerful and aware heir of two well-known families."

Ron and Remus had a few good laughs as they inwardly sighed in relief believing they had dodged a bullet… but it was too late. After forty-five minutes and seven dress robes, shirts and trousers later, Hermione was done with Harry, who blew his fringes out of his eyes in relief and annoyance as he eyed the worn-out clothes and ill-fitting school robe sitting in a pile next to him while he tried to get used to the feel of new clothes.

Ron wilted under Hermione's commanding glare and was shortly set up with two quality dress robes and a brand-new, custom-fit school robe charmed to expand as he continued to grow. Harry privately thought this was a good idea as there was no telling how tall Ron might get.

It took some cajoling from both Hermione and Harry before Remus consented to be outfitted in some tasteful dark brown robes.

Finally, it was almost time to attend the session of the Wizengamot, and Harry, Ron and Remus presented their Gringotts keys to prove they could sign a draft authorising Madam Malkin's shop to charge their vaults. Harry then changed into the crisp dark blue robe, matching his blue trousers and white shirt. He grimaced at seeing his trainers sticking out from under his robes, but Hermione fixed that by telling Harry about a transfiguration that she said would last about two hours. He did the spell, and the trainers became black leather shoes. At that point, she pronounced him ready to face the Wizengamot.

Dumbledore nodded and said, "Harry, your appearance will count for almost as much of your credibility as your name. In this outfit it will be very hard to dismiss your suggestions and comments."

Ron and Remus assumed their new robes, and Harry quickly shrank Ron's robes for his pocket, while Remus shrank his old robe and stuffed it in his pocket as well.

At that point, Fawkes flew into the air, warbled a bit, and lowered his tail.

Dumbledore smiled, and said, "Excellent. If you all will please carefully take hold of Fawkes's tail, we will be conveyed to the door of Courtroom Ten for the Wizengamot session. I have already cleared this with Ministry security, as Amelia Bones was kind enough to accommodate us."

Within a moment, they flashed outside of Courtoom Ten at the Ministry. Unconsciously, Harry rubbed his right hand, where Umb… Um_bridge_ had caused him to inscribe those words over and over during his detentions. He decided to add her to the list of those people with whom he had scores to settle.

* * *

Author Notes: Again, this is also essentially unexpurgated from the old version and so unbetaed. Cheers again, everyone. :)


	13. At the Wizengamot

**A Knut to Start the Revolution**  
Chapter 13

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to J. K. Rowling.

* * *

Draco Malfoy stared at the goblin in disbelief as he and his mother stood just inside the entry doors to Gringotts.

"Goblin, I am here for the reading of a _will_, you simpering little—"

His mother, Narcissa, broke in sharply. "_Draco!_ Behave yourself this instant!"

The Aurors and goblins had had the temerity to delay their entrance after the Malfoys had stated they were present for a will reading. The blonde witch had received a Gringotts owl regarding a will in which she and her son were the beneficiaries, and she knew it could only be one thing: Sirius Black was dead.

Unfortunately for her, though, her offspring's attitude problem ensured that any hope of getting in to the will-reading on time was blasted all to pieces.

The goblin guard was saying, "Mister Malfoy, we must use a Probity Probe to ensure that you are not about to steal any of the assets of Gringotts. You will accompany us to a room for searching. Mrs Malfoy, a moment, please."

The Aurors, who held their own Probity Probes, snickered in amusement. Narcissa thought one of them might have been the same one who was part of a contingent who barged into Malfoy Manor to search for illegal artefacts after Lucius had been arrested.

Draco put his foot in it when he said, "Probity Probe? I think _not_. I am a _Malfoy_ and I hardly deserve such treatment from _you_."

Whether on purpose or by accident, another goblin, wheeling a cart of rubies past Draco, bumped into him and caused the young aristocrat to go sprawling on the floor. At that point, the goblin guards grabbed him by the shoulders, and dragged him into the Probity Room.

Narcissa groaned internally and counted to fifty in her head as she realised her son had managed to completely muck things up for them. Her Probity Probe scan was fairly quick and nonintrusive, and the goblin gruffly pointed her over to the doorway to await her son.

Inside the room, Draco Malfoy had been stripped of all his clothing and hit with the goblin equivalent of a Petrificus Totalus. The goblin guard holding the Probity Probe waved it menacingly at Draco, who had the good sense to keep from losing control over his bladder. The Probe bleeped and blared as it passed over his left arm, and the goblin smirked as only a goblin could when the glamour covering his Dark Mark was revealed. As to where else the Probity Probe went, the blond was seen walking a bit oddly when he stepped out of the room, and he woodenly refused to look anywhere near the guard goblin.

Narcissa berated her son in hissing whispers as the goblin in charge of will readings took them to an empty room. "Draco! You have no manners and _no_ civility! Behave yourself or I shall send you home _at once!_ You are not of age and I am still your mother. Is that clear?"

He was suitably demeaned, as he bowed his head and muttered, "Yes, mother."

The two walked into the room, and the goblin said, "First, for your tardiness in attending the will reading, we must levy a fee of a hundred Galleons."

Grudgingly, Narcissa slapped down her Gringotts key, upon which the goblin picked it up and pressed it onto a piece of parchment, onto which lines and words began forming. He scratched away on it in Gobbledygook and then created a duplicate, translated into English; it was a receipt for the transfer of a hundred Galleons for a will reading.

The whole exercise rapidly proved to be quite pointless, as the will, which the goblin read in a bored monotone, gave everything away to the Muggle-lovers and Mudblood and left a solitary Galleon and a rude remark for Draco, and the shock of being disowned from the Black family for Narcissa.

After Apparating back to Wiltshire with his mother, Draco Malfoy could only fume in impotent rage as he went to his bedroom and began casting curses and hexes at his pillows.

How _dare_ Black, that _convict_, give everything to his nemesis, Harry Potter, and nothing but a snarky comment and the insult of a Galleon for him? The goblin had even had the _audacity_ to present a Galleon coin!

Narcissa, on her way to the Wizengamot proceedings, suddenly remembered the odd colour of red that had flowed over her as she waited for the goblins to finish with Draco's Probity inspection. She realised then that the glow had been the signal that she had been disowned as a Black. If only she had been focussed on that instead of fuming over how her son's tendency to needlessly antagonise anyone around him had ruined her plans for worming her way back into the Black fortune by pretending to be conciliatory with Harry Potter.

She marvelled that Severus had put up with Draco for as long as he had. She was far from stupid; she knew the man was a half-blood, and had grown up in a poor Muggle section of Britain prior to being taken in by the Princes. He never openly showed his resentment over the way Lucius had casually flaunted his wealth, but then her husband had had a modicum of common sense. Draco was simply far too arrogant, brash and spiteful, and didn't hesitate to throw the Malfoy name around as though it entitled him to everything. She wondered if Severus had ever, in private, wondered why he had to deal with the boy.

Unfortunately, she knew she would probably have to go to the man and beg of him to protect Draco. The boy had _some_ reason to be unbearably arrogant; he actually believed he was _favoured_ by the Dark Lord because he had been given a mission:

Kill Albus Dumbledore.

/\/\/\

Severus Snape was, indeed, fuming over Draco Malfoy.

He also fumed over Wormtail's unwanted attachment to his immediate presence thanks to the Dark Lord's insistence that Wormtail needed a place to live. Obviously, the real reason was that the Dark Lord didn't trust Severus, but wasn't going to say so out loud lest his spy be driven into Dumbledore's camp. The rat could blasted well go live in some nook in his Animagus form instead of wasting _his_ time, _his_ food and _his_ living space at _his_ residence.

Severus decided to brew in the basement, if only to take his mind off that idiot Wormtail and his constant nosing about as though there were something to be had by spying on _books_. And speaking of books, if that annoying little rat so much as _touched_ one…

Severus wrenched his thoughts back to Draco. The little bastard never seemed to fail at doing exactly the _wrong_ thing. In first year, did he make friends with Potter the way Lucius wanted? No. Never mind that Severus had his own issues with Potter – the Malfoy patriarch had political ambitions for the family name, ambitions that did _not_ include antagonising the Boy-Who-Lived, and his son had managed to blast them all to smithereens with just a few sentences and a horrendous attitude problem.

In second year, did he keep his mouth shut and quit antagonising the Muggleborns? No. He threw around "Mudblood" like some people spent Knuts. Yes, that _would_ endear him to half the student population… the half-brained ones, that was to say!

In third year, he had failed to find a way to keep Draco from losing Slytherin fifty House points thanks to that completely imbecilic stunt – pretending to be a Dementor, _indeed_. That boy had never known the true horrors a Dementor could call forth, or he never would have done something so absurdly thoughtless.

Fourth year; oh yes, what a marvel. The boy couldn't even keep his mouth shut on the Hogwarts Express and had promptly cemented himself firmly on the "to watch" list of any intelligent person at Hogwarts after he had openly mocked Cedric Diggory to Harry Potter. Say what one would about Potter, but mocking a Hufflepuff who had never done Slytherin wrong was simply beyond the pale.

And fifth year – oh, Merlin's balls. That vain strutting peacock of a boy had been so puffed up over being on Umbridge's goon squad. Severus had been around long enough to know when people were being manipulated for someone else's agenda, and he could spot it as clear as the water in the lake at Hogwarts that Umbridge fully intended to manipulate the Slytherins by taking advantage of House rivalries. In doing so, she had probably done irreparable damage to House unity, and made it impossible for Severus to attempt any subtle manoeuvrings of Slytherins towards the Light. And now that Umbridge had been discredited and Dumbledore was firmly back in power, along with the Daily Prophet showering praise upon the "Chosen One", Severus knew there was no way to shield Draco from the consequences. Gryffindor would come for their pound of flesh after the way the Inquisitorial Squad had rampaged freely throughout the school, and the cycle would start again.

And on top of it all, he, the Potions master, had to watch as the blond threw around the Malfoy wealth and the Malfoy name in other peoples' faces. One of his definitely less-brilliant moves was to regularly insult Ron Weasley. Draco went out of his way to insult the lack of wealth Weasley's family had, and it stung. The worst of it, for Severus, was that he could _sympathise_. He knew how it felt when you came from a clapped-out townhouse in some run-down industrial district and the boy next to you had never slept on anything less refined than _silk bedsheets._ But all his quiet admonishments to Draco had fallen on deaf ears.

Not that he would ever tell anyone, mind. If he had to describe what traits he despised, for Weasley it was his constant habit of being excessively Gryffindorishly foolish in speaking before engaging his brain. For Draco, it was his insistent habit of being a blockhead when it came to the application of Slytherin intelligence. And for Potter… well, looking like James would do it enough, although if he were forced to be truly honest with himself, Lily Evans looked at him with those eyes.

In some ways, the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry with its perpetual cycles of attack-parry-defend-and-revenge went back, Severus had to admit, to the 1970s when the Marauders and Lucius's Slytherins, of which he was a peripheral part, relentlessly went after each other their entire time at Hogwarts. The problem was, there was no way to break that cycle, although there was a bit of an interregnum in the late 1980s when some of the lesser Death Eaters who had been dumped into Azkaban died from ill health and the cumulative effects of the Dementors, which meant Severus was not _quite_ as beholden to pretend he actually _liked_ dealing with the bratty spawn of those miserable cowards who thought getting a mark on their left arms was the greatest thing since Merlin.

He occasionally – very occasionally, to be sure – regretted showing such bias and partisanship towards Slytherins. In doing so, he had made it almost impossible for him to do what he so much desired to do, which was take Draco over his knee and give the idiot boy a good thrashing. That so, he took out his anger on the rest of Hogwarts, risking the possibility that Albus would come crashing down on him if ever he went too far.

And now that bitch Lestrange was making noises, whispering in the Dark Lord's ear about how _she_ was the most loyal, the most faithful… after all, had she not thrown everything over to be a full-time Death Eater while that sourpuss Snape was sitting pretty at Hogwarts?

The only thing worse than that would be if Narcissa came begging him to do something for Draco. The boy had, he could only assume, been a complete loss as to his brain cell capacity, since he had shown up at an initiation ceremony just a few days ago, promptly gotten himself marked, and given a secret mission. What it was, Severus could not determine, but it couldn't be anything good. Luckily, Bellatrix hadn't been at that ceremony and didn't know what Draco's mission was, either.

Maybe if he could convince Albus to be a bit harsher and to quit being such a perpetual optimist, the Headmaster could knock some sense into Draco and make him realise he was playing in the big leagues with a woeful lack of common sense.

In that, he unfortunately seemed to resemble the Brat-Who-Lived.

/\/\/\

Harry Potter looked around Courtroom Ten in bitter memory. The chair which had threatened to confine him, the high bench around which the fifty members sat, and the flickering torches all made him fidget uncomfortably. Remus seemed to notice this, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

Amelia Bones was sitting to the right of Cornelius Fudge, whilst, thankfully, the toad Umbridge was absent. The rest of the Wizengamot members were seating themselves at the various maroon chairs, and the bespectacled teen could see that the seat the old bat had occupied was instead being occupied by a man who looked like an old lion. He exuded an air of confidence and strength, very much unlike that stupid clot of a Minister.

It was only when all but the Chief Warlock were seated that Harry noticed that two chairs, side by side next to Griselda Marchbanks, were vacant; Dumbledore whispered, "Harry, I will have to formally challenge the presence of your friends. Do not be alarmed; it is just a formality."

The latter nodded, a bit nervously, and tried patting down his hair again as the very old wizard serenely ascended to his seat just to the left of Amelia Bones.

"As Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot," he said, "I hereby open our session as of"—here, he examined his watch—"one-oh-three in the afternoon exactly. The first order of business, I see from the schedule, is the reinstatement of the Potter and Black seats to full status."

Augusta Longbottom, who was Neville's grandmother, replied, "I concur. So moved."

The Headmaster answered, "Very well. Harry James Potter, please step forward."

Harry did so, standing near the chair that had once imprisoned him.

"Harry, I wish you to account for why the people behind you, who are not present for Wizengamot business, should remain in these chambers for closed session."

"Headmaster Dumbledore, I come accompanied by my closest friends. I have known Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger since my first year at Hogwarts. Remus Lupin is the last remaining connection I have to my father and mother, and is now my official wizarding guardian."

Dumbledore nodded in approval and said, "Mr Potter has established, to my satisfaction, that the people with him should remain present for the remainder of these proceedings. Are there any objections?"

The room was silent.

Madam Bones began.

"As the Chief Warlock has stated, our first business is you, Mr Potter. Do you have your family ring?"

Harry thought, _Oh no! I forgot to get it at Gringotts!_

He tremulously said, "…no. But—"

Dumbledore smoothly interposed, saying, "It is not a requirement that the known heir of a Family on the Wizengamot present a ring if that heir is in the direct line. Am I correct?"

The witch with the monocle agreed. "Indeed. It was a formality, as you well know. Mr Potter, do you swear on your magic that your true father and mother are James Potter and Lily Potter, respectively?"

"Yes."

Augusta said, "I move that we recognise the Potter claim."

Bones said, "I concur. So moved."

Dumbledore said, "All those in favour of recognising Mr Potter's claim to his family seat?"

A multitude of hands rose.

"Any opposed?"

Only two hands went up, and Harry realised with surprise that one of them was Narcissa Malfoy.

Bones said, "By the authority invested in me as the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I hereby certify that Mr Potter, of sound mind and body, is capable of ascending to his seat."

Fudge added his own assent, slightly reluctantly. "By the authority invested in me as the Minister for Magic, I hereby certify that Mr Potter, of sound mind and body, is capable of ascending to his seat."

Dumbledore finished with, "As Chief Warlock, I announce that on this day the thirty-first of July, nineteen ninety-six, the vacant seat of Potter is finally filled."

With that, the old teacher began a steady applause, eyes twinkling in merriment as the rest of the Wizengamot solemnly embraced Harry's right to partake in their decisions. The Boy Who Lived turned, looked at his friends, and noticed that Hermione's eyes were glistening while Ron was grinning lopsidedly. Remus was clapping softly along with the rest, and then made small shooing motions as he grinned.

It would not be lying to say that Harry felt a bit emotionally overwhelmed as he hesitantly stepped towards the seat closest to Griselda Marchbanks. He slowly sat down, and surveyed the courtroom from his new vantage point.

The old woman said in an undertone, "Glad to have you here, Mr Potter. Your OWL results should get to you soon. I daresay you did rather well!"

He smiled a bit uncertainly, and then faced the rest again, as Dumbledore spoke up once more.

"Before we continue – Mr Potter, is there any other business you wish to transact before the Wizengamot at this time?"

Harry took a deep breath, and began. "Yes, Headma…er, Chief Warlock. As I have come into my inheritance from Sirius Black—"

A murmur went around the courtroom. Not all the members had been part of the quorum that had dismissed the charges and voided the sentence, but enough were there to know the truth.

"As I said, I have inherited from Sirius Black. I am here to petition to ascend to the Black seat as well."

The murmurs arose again, louder this time.

A swarthy, black-haired man, who had voted against him along with Narcissa, was seated at the far end opposite Harry. He said, "By what right, Mr Potter, do you make this claim?"

Harry firmly replied, "I am in possession of the Black family ring and have been invested with the authority of Black Family Head."

Narcissa spoke up. "As proxy for the House of Malfoy, whose son is in the direct line from myself née Black, I must question this claim. By what right do you have the ring, and not Draco Malfoy?"

Harry spoke sharply and ringingly. "By the will of Sirius Black, the Malfoys have been deprived of any right to claim against the Black family. You are no longer a Black."

To Harry's surprise, the woman took it between the eyes and stayed quiet. He wondered if anyone else would open their gob, but Dumbledore spoke up before anyone else could. "This is another formality, Harry – I must certify that the ring on your finger is a true Family ring."

The old man waved his wand in a complex fashion that seemed to resemble a Japanese letter Harry had seen when Dudley was watching that old movie, Karate Kid. Harry was startled when his ring momentarily glowed white, but relaxed as nothing happened.

"As Chief Warlock, I certify that the ring on Mr Potter's hand is a true ring and entitles him to assume the seat of the House of Black. The way is clear to allow his appointment."

Augusta Longbottom again spoke up. "I concur. So moved."

"All in favour?"

Less hands rose up than before, but still a majority.

"Opposed?"

Some hands rose, but the vote was clear.

Bones said, "By the authority invested in me as the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I hereby certify that Mr Potter, of sound mind and body, is capable of ascending to the seat of the House of Black."

Fudge nervously said, "By the authority invested in me as the Minister for Magic, I hereby certify that Mr Potter, of sound mind and body, is capable of ascending to the seat of the House of Black."

Dumbledore finished with, "As Chief Warlock, I announce that on this day the thirty-first of July, nineteen ninety-six, the vacant seat of Black is finally filled."

The man who looked like an old lion spoke up for the first time. "In case you do not know who I am, Mr Potter, I am Rufus Scrimgeour, Head Auror. I wish to ask how you plan to attend Wizengamot sessions when you will be at Hogwarts for the next year."

"A fair question, Head Auror. If Wizengamot sessions occur on weekends I will ask permission from the Headmaster to attend these proceedings. Additionally, I will nominate proxies who can attend for one or both seats, as I direct."

Dumbledore said, "Is there anyone who objects to the matter of proxy voters? No? Good. Please begin, Harry."

There was not as much surprise as would have been expected when Harry said, "For the seat of the House of Potter, I nominate my proxy voter, Remus John Lupin."

Marchbanks, in a quiet aside to Harry, said, "He may be a werewolf, but everybody knows he was your father's friend. Opposing him would just be useless – but watch for them to try scheduling sessions on full moon days."

Even so, the look of distaste in Narcissa's mouth was clearly evident, and Cornelius Fudge looked oddly like he wanted to rush to the loo.

Harry Potter took another deep breath and spoke the words which would cause uproar over the next few weeks:

"For the seat of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, I nominate my proxy voter, Hermione Jean Granger!"

* * *

Author Notes: ^_^ Fun times will ensue, yes? :P


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